Date: Tue, 25 Jul 2017 16:33:25 -0500
From: G Jones <geojonsey@gmail.com>
Subject: Ken and I - Part 22

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Ken and I - Part 22

It was nearly six by the time we made it back to the bus stop by Daryl's
house. The sun was still shining, there were only a few clouds in the sky,
and if it hadn't been for a slight breeze it might've been stiflingly
hot. We weren't in a big rush so we walked slowly; Daryl said that his
parents and Mike wouldn't be back until late, and his sister was off with
some friends and might not be back for a few days.

Although I'd gone commando before, I always found that it felt a bit
naughty to let my junk just flop around in my shorts or pants, or whatever
I had on. I tugged the front of my shorts as we walked, not that I didn't
do that regularly even if I was wearing underwear.

"Getting comfortable?" Daryl grinned.

"What?" I asked, not realizing that Daryl had seen me.

"Don't you remember, when you used to adjust yourself you'd say you needed
to make it comfortable."

I laughed, "Yeah, I guess."

I found it interesting that Daryl had remembered me saying that; I only
recalled using that phrase a few times when we were younger. It made me
wonder what else he remembered.

"Remember that time we found all those magazines? In the bushes by the bike
trail?"

"Yeah", Daryl smirked and laughed, "and we dropped them and took off when
we heard those other guys coming down the trail. And then when we went
back, they were gone."

"You think those other guys took them?"

"Fuck yeah, probably, we were going to when we went back."

"Yeah, I guess they beat us to it."

Daryl laughed and punched me in the arm, "They probably beat themselves."

I laughed too, "Imagine if we had taken them? What would we have done with
them?"

Daryl gave me a half grin, half quizzical look, "What do you mean?"

"I mean, where would we have stashed them? Fuck, could you imagine my
mother or your mother finding them in either of our rooms?"

"Oh", Daryl said, perhaps having expected a different answer, "I don't
know, but I'm sure it wouldn't have been good. They get so uptight about us
wanting to see some pictures of tits and snatch. Fuck, you should've seen
her when she found a few Playboys that dad had in the garage. She just
about blew a gasket!"

Daryl went on, mocking his mother's voice, "I can't believe you have this
disgusting stuff, what if the boys had found them?"

We both laughed out loud.

"And?" I asked.

"What?"

"Did her boys find them?"

"Fuck yeah", Daryl answered, and after a moment adding, "looked at them
every chance I got. Mikey saw them a few times, he just thought it was
gross, wanted to know why anyone would want to look at the ham between a
girl's legs. I just about pissed myself laughing when he said that."

"Did you tell him?"

I'm not sure if it was a trick of the light, but I almost thought that
Daryl had blushed slightly.

"Nah, he'll figure it out on his own ...", Daryl hesitated, adding quietly,
"I did."

I'm not sure why, but hearing him say that made me feel a little
guilty. The fact that I'd already discovered masturbation at the time was
one of the few secrets I'd kept from Daryl. I wondered if he knew; maybe
he'd realized I already knew once he'd figured it out as well. I was about
to say something else, but we'd gotten to the house and as Daryl was
fishing the key out of his pocket he asked if I wanted to order some pizza
for dinner.  I agreed, and said that I would pay for it, given that he'd
paid for the bus, the waterpark and the food we'd eaten there. Daryl went
for the phone as soon as we were inside; I could hear him start to place
the order as I went to the bathroom to take a piss. I flushed and returned
to the kitchen just as he hung up.

"Be about thirty minutes."

"Sounds good", I said.

"I think you might've flushed a little too early", Daryl laughed and
pointed.

I looked down and realized there was an obvious wet spot on the front of my
shorts; I had found that this was one of the other downsides to going
commando. There was always a bit of pee dribble in my underwear, but when I
didn't wear any, the dribble usually formed a spot.

"Your fault, you should've packed some underwear."

"More like I should've packed some diapers." Daryl roared as he too went to
the bathroom. Since we were alone in the house, he didn't bother closing
the door and I could hear a heavy stream hit the water, followed by a
couple of squirts as he finished.

"See?" Daryl said, as he made a big show of doing Vanna hands around the
front of his shorts.

I laughed, "I'll take a 't', as in teeny weeny."

"Yeah, right", Daryl replied, grinning as he grabbed a fistful of his
crotch, "you'll find I've got a real handful here!"

I paused, not being quite sure how to respond to that. It was likely just
my own guilty conscience, but I briefly wondered if Daryl was hinting that
he knew about our last couple of sleepovers. That if I grabbed him now I'd
have more in my hands than I did back then. I shook the thought out of mind
when Daryl said we'd watch some TV until the pizza got here.

We watched part of some mindless sitcom, the kind we'd probably be too
embarrassed today to admit having watched and laughed at. Most boys our age
weren't known for having a sophisticated sense of humor, at least not the
ones I knew back then.

When the pizza arrived, we sat back in front of the TV and gorged ourselves
on slice after slice, washing it all down with nearly a full bottle of cola
between us. We each repeatedly belched our approval of this fine meal,
trying hard to outdo each other. We both collapsed into the couch, our
bellies full, the day in the sun and water having worn us out.

We spent the remainder of the evening like that, barely moving other than
to flip the channel. It was nearly 11:30 when the phone rang; we hadn't
even realized that it was that late, nor that Daryl's parents hadn't come
home yet. They were calling to let us know that they would be spending the
night with friends as it was too late to come home. Daryl told me this was
code for them having had too much to drink, and asked me what I wanted to
do now.

Even though we had the house to ourselves, and could have opted to stay up
all night watching TV, I was kind of tired and said that I might just get
ready for bed. Daryl agreed and said that we could listen to some music or
something while we laid in bed.

After we brushed our teeth, we headed into Daryl's room. I stripped off my
t-shirt, and was about to open my shorts when I remembered that I wasn't
wearing any underwear. I remembered that Daryl wasn't either. As I grabbed
a fresh pair out of the drawer, I had a panicked thought: Daryl's briefs
that I'd used earlier that morning to clean up after a quick jerk were
still under the sheets on my side of the bed. As we both got changed I
began to get nervous, wondering how'd I'd be able to hide them, at least
until Daryl feel asleep so that I could toss them in his dirty clothes
pile. I realized I must've been getting changed in slow motion because as I
finished pulling on my briefs, Daryl was already at the edge of his side of
the bed.

Before I could do anything, he grabbed the sheet and pulled it all the way
back to the bottom of the bed. I wasn't exactly sure what would happen;
although he might not remember or wonder how his briefs would've ended up
under the sheets, surely he'd notice that they weren't in the same
condition as they'd been when he'd taken them off.

I must've had a strange expression on my face when I saw that there were no
briefs on the bed. Did they got up in the sheet when Daryl had pulled it
down?

"Something wrong?" Daryl asked.

"Ah ... no, no nothing wrong", I stammered for something to say, "... it's
ah ... your shoulders, they're kind of red, I hadn't noticed that
earlier. I guess we should've put on some more lotion."

Daryl's face revealed nothing; had he found them and put them in his
clothes pile already? Had he maybe not noticed at all? He turned on a small
bedside lamp as well as the radio on his nightstand, as I turned off the
room light and laid on the bed next to him. It was warm, even with the
window open, so we didn't pull up the sheet. As inconspicuously as I could,
I moved my foot around under the bunched up sheet, trying to feel for the
briefs that surely must be down there.

I nearly jumped when Daryl began to speak, "So ... uhm, how are you?"

I wasn't sure what to make of his question; it was the kind of question you
might ask someone when you first saw them, but I'd already been here for a
night and a full day. It seemed odd to me.

"Ah ... good?"

"Yeah, okay ... and ah ... school? That's going okay?" he continued.

I almost burst out laughing when it dawned on me that Daryl was attempting
to have a serious, or at least more mature, conversation. He was struggling
with it. Probably because he and I had rarely had anything that resembled a
truly serious discussion. Our talks were usually filled with light
commentary, punctuated by jokes and insults. I held it in; I didn't want to
make him feel bad.

"It's pretty good, classes aren't too bad and most of the teachers aren't
dickheads. What's the school like out here? About the same?"

"Yeah, I guess, probably mostly the same all over", Daryl replied, "it's
... I don't know, okay ... I guess."

I took a stab, remembering what my mom had told me, "Not easy starting a
new school? I know when we moved I hated having to start new. Almost
reminded me of that first day, y'know? When we first met?"

"Yeah, you were such a quiet dweeb", Daryl laughed, "I must've felt sorry
for you."

"Well ... I'm glad you did." I looked at Daryl and smiled.

"Yeah ... me too. I wish ...", Daryl trailed off before continuing, "... I
wish there'd been someone like me when I started school here ... or better
yet ..."

"That we still went to the same school?" I finished his thought.

Daryl nodded, looking straight up at the ceiling.

"Any cool kids to hang out with?" I asked.

Daryl continued looking up, "There's a few guys at school I guess ... I
don't know, I ... it feels like everybody's gone to school together here
forever ... it's kind of like ... I don't know, maybe I don't quite fit in
with any of them? I thought maybe if I joined some of the sports teams? But
... it's okay for games and stuff, but nobody seems to wanna hang out after
... at least not ... well, not with me."

I felt bad for Daryl. In some ways I'd been in the same position; it's not
like I had an abundance of friends outside of school. Of course I'd now
become friends with Ken. But it wasn't exactly the same as having just a
regular friend.

Daryl interrupted my thoughts, "Who cares, right? Probably because I'm an
ass most of the time."

I realized I hadn't responded; I knew it couldn't have been easy for Daryl
to admit that he was having trouble fitting in.

"I care", I said, "... even if you are an ass."

Daryl finally looked at me again and smiled. This was a vulnerable side of
Daryl that he'd never revealed to me before. Likely it wasn't a side that
many people got to see. I wanted to reach out and touch his shoulder, or to
hug him to show him that I really did care. I held back; it was one thing
to hug a friend when you were fully dressed. I wasn't sure how Daryl would
react to being hugged when we were both bare other than our briefs. I know
I was afraid of how I'd react.

"We were best friends, right?" Daryl said.

"Yeah. Still are?"

"Are we?"

I wasn't sure where Daryl was going with this, "I'd like to be."

"Yeah?" Daryl said, "... me too."

I smiled as Daryl went on, "Best friends tell each other everything. Don't
they?"

My smile faded a little, "Well, yeah, I guess. They're supposed to."

My heart was starting to pound a little harder, and I could feel a sheen of
sweat on my face and body, more than just from the heat of the night.

"But sometimes they don't", Daryl stated.

"No", I replied quietly, "sometimes they don't."

I suddenly felt like I wanted to tell Daryl everything. I wanted to tell
him that I'd know about masturbation and didn't tell him. I wanted to tell
him that I'd become attracted to boys. I wanted to tell him that I'd
touched him while he slept. I even wanted to tell him about Ken. And
Jamie. I took a deep breath.

"I have something to tell you."

My breath caught in my throat. Daryl had something to tell me? But I was
the one with all the secrets. I was the one that had things to tell him.

"I know", he said.

"You ... know?"

"I mean ... I know about ... y'know, the sleepovers? I ... I should've said
something ... I should've told you ... that ...  I wasn't asleep."

My heart threatened to burst and stop. This was it. Daryl was going to
confront me about being a pervert. That I had betrayed our friendship. That
he wanted me to leave and never talk to him again. If the adrenaline hadn't
been pumping through my system at that moment, I'd have broken down in
tears.

He continued, barely a whisper "That it had ... felt good, that I knew that
you were ... touching yourself too. That it should've been me ... a friend
would've ... a best friend."

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. Daryl felt bad that he hadn't
touched me the way I had touched him?

I finally found my voice, small and hesitant, "But I ... I touched YOU
... while YOU were sleeping ... or I mean, while I thought you were
sleeping. A best friend wouldn't have done that."

"I figured it was your way of telling me ... y'know, explaining about
masturbation. I was just too afraid ..."

I still couldn't quite believe how this was unfolding. I had been feeling
guilty about having taken advantage of my friend, and here he was telling
me that he'd been feeling guilty for ... what? Leaving me hanging to touch
myself instead of doing it himself?

I laid there quietly for a minute. We both did. And then I burst out
laughing. I laughed so hard, it started to hurt.  Daryl was laughing too,
although I'm not sure he entirely knew why he was laughing. I was holding
my stomach, trying to breathe, trying to stop laughing.

When I'd finally caught my breath, I said, "You're a fucking retard, y'know
that? What you should've done is beaten the fuck out of me for molesting
you in your sleep. Even if you were enjoying it!"

"We were friends, best friends. We did ... we did everything
together. Except I chickened out.  You never chickened out, no matter what
we did ... not matter what stupid thing I started. Never. And those times?
I never thought I'd be the one."

It didn't really occur to me at the time, but clearly Daryl and I had
different definitions of what it meant to be a best friend. For him it was
about never backing down, never letting your friend do something that you
wouldn't do as well. For me it had been about not letting a friend
down. Maybe our definitions were two sides of the same coin.

I wouldn't say that my guilt disappeared instantly, but I felt better.
Better for having it out in the open, even if we had different
interpretations of the same events. I could feel the tension releasing as I
relaxed into the mattress and pillow. And then I felt Daryl's hand on my
hip.

"Maybe? If you still want ..."