September 11, 1995
It was the first day of eighth grade for the four of us. Eric and I went to the same bus stop, which drove us to the same school, but it felt entirely different somehow. We weren’t going to sit at the same table all day, with the same schedule and the same classes. I wasn’t going to be able to reach under the table and feel Eric’s thigh, smooth and strong, just for a second, in the middle of class during the most boring part of the lecture.
I got my class schedule in the mail a day before Eric did, and I ran over to his house as soon as it arrived. Eric explained the most concerning thing was that my math teacher next year was going to be Mrs. Elling. I didn’t know much about her, but Eric knew her by reputation, which wasn’t good. I tried to convince Eric that the dot-matrix printer, somehow, had made a mistake — it looked to me like FLLTNG, the bottom row of dots kind of missing, which surely meant that they were filling that position with a new teacher. Eric, straddling me and looking down at me with sympathy in his eyes, told me it was wishful thinking: I was in Mrs. Elling’s class for sure. I sighed. I didn’t really know what I was in for, but it didn’t sound good.
Eric got his schedule the next day in the mail, and there was one bright spot: He and I shared an English class, first period, with Mrs. Kane. Mrs. Kane was a great teacher (so we’d heard), and involved a lot of her students in extracurriculars like the Spelling Bee, Language Arts Field Day, and the school newspaper. I guess we had done well enough in seventh-grade English to make it to top-tier eighth-grade English.
That first day of Mrs. Kane’s class, though, we were disappointed that our desks were arranged in alphabetical order. Me, with my last name that began with P, was two rows away from Eric, whose last name began with W. There were at least three people to look past in order to see him, and since he was behind (diagonally) from me, there was no chance to just look at him idly in the moments he happened to cross my mind. I suppose, though, the good news was that we had a reason to spend Rotary nights “studying” together. I don’t know what I would have done if we had no classes together at all.
A week or so later, I saw a flyer leaving Mrs. Kane’s classroom about the school newspaper: They weren’t looking for writers, but instead needed someone good with computers to compile all the articles and put it into a newsletter-style layout. Dad had just purchased Microsoft Publisher, what they called “desktop publishing” software, and I had played around with it over the summer. I made a mental note to talk to Mrs. Kane about it after class the next day.
Andy and Cory weren’t far — Eric and I met up with them at break and lunch most days, at least at first. We found that the table we had occupied last year was overrun with sixth-graders, so we made a habit of finding a spot near the portable buildings where, last year, we had our fraught last lunch together. “Hey, has anyone remembered anything about what Cory’s girlfriend was spreading around?” Andy asked, fairly early on.
“Crickets,” I said, and Eric nodded.
“I knew it,” Andy said, completely rewriting history, since he was the most worried about what people were saying about him, and us. The rest of us just stayed quiet, eating.
“Hey, so,” Andy started, “sleepover? Next weekend? I know it’s past my birthday, but my mom said I could have a sleepover with you guys when the school year started,” he said.
“Are we … is it … that kind of sleepover?” I asked.
“You know it,” Andy said. “We’ll have the whole afternoon. I’ve got a new idea: Tag teaming.”
“OK,” Eric started, the one in our group probably most familiar with professional wrestling. “But tag teaming like how?”
“So we start off with one partner, we wrestle,” Andy said, “and when we’re ready to, you know, when we’re hard, we switch off. We have one wrestling partner to get us hard, and another partner we get off with, you know?”
“Oh, OK,” Cory said. “So, like, I’d start off wrestling with Eric, and then I’d get to cum with Bobby?”
“Well, or me,” Andy said, somewhat defensively. “Eric could cum with Bobby, however it works out.” He took a bite of his sandwich.
“Oh, uh, OK,” Cory said. He was giving me a look that I couldn’t quite understand.
On the bus home, Eric leaned into me. “Cory wants to do it with you,” he said.
“Nah, come on,” I joked back. “He said he wanted to wrestle with you first,” I said, my voice barely audible over the grind of the diesel bus engine.
“Andy’s idea got away from him,” Eric said. “Andy wanted to use you to get Cory hard, and then just you be like, here he is sire, ready for you,” he added, giggling. “Andy wants you to fluff Cory,” he said.
I laughed. “Fluff?” I asked.
“Yeah, it’s like in porn, there’s someone whose job it is to keep the actors hard, and then, like, you know, they do it,” Eric said. “It’s called fluffing!”
“What?” I laughed, incredulous. “Wait, you watch porn?”
“What, no,” Eric said, backpedaling slightly. “It’s all, like — everyone knows this! How do you not know this?” Eric said, putting a hand on my thigh and squeezing.
“I’ll fluff you,” I said, batting his hand away.
Eric scoffed. “Like you need to,” he said, giving me a sly look.
My mom drove Eric and I over to Andy’s house for the sleepover, and Cory rode his bike. We had almost a routine for these freewheeling afternoons — we’d arrive, carefully and collaboratively push the furniture out of the way, and maybe play some G.I. Joe or put on the TV. It never took long before someone was trying to get someone else to wrestle — today it was Eric hanging off of me, trying to pull me to the floor and straddle me. He was good at it, too, I had to admit.
“You two are so gay,” Andy said, watching Eric start to grind his dick into mine.
“Pff, you’re one to talk,” Eric said, unafraid. “Remember practice moves?”
“Those were legit practice moves,” Andy said. “I had Cory pinned fair and square. It’s not my fault if he came,” Andy said. I furrowed my brow, not quite seeing Andy’s point. I think he saw. “What?” he asked.
“When are we going to try this tag-teaming thing?” I asked, changing the subject.
“Oh yeah, Bobby’s horny,” Andy taunted.
I sighed. I pointed two hands at Eric straddling me. “How can I not be?” I gave him a sly wink as he started to climb off me.
“I want to wrestle Bobby,” Cory said. “I mean, wrestle him first,” he added, looking at Andy.
“Yeah yeah, you said that at lunch the other day,” Andy said. “And you want Eric to make you cum,” he added, puckishly.
“Yeah, but backwards,” Cory replied quietly.
“Fine, let’s go. You and me, Eric,” Andy said.
“How are we gonna know when to tag out?” Eric asked.
“Oh, I left out the most important part,” Andy said matter-of-factly. “We’ll wrestle naked. It’s time to tag out when you see or feel precum.” Eric and I looked at each other and shrugged. Eric had pretty good stamina, I was OK if I was on top. I just had to make sure I stayed on top of Cory.
We sort of squared off in the middle of the living room, having drawn the shades. Nobody said anything, but we all just started taking off our shirts, leaving them in tidy little piles. Soon, there were four naked boys looking each other up and down, their limp little pee pees out there for each other to see. Of course I had seen Eric’s, but Andy’s uncut cock looked smaller and pointier when it wasn’t hard. Cory’s looked a lot like mine.
Cory walked over to me, and we started to slap hands, circling one another. Andy went for Eric fast, but I tried not to watch their match, and instead concentrated on Cory. I found an angle, sliding an arm between his thighs and pulling back, tossing Cory onto his back. We scrambled on the floor as I felt his cock against my tummy and thigh, and finally getting him in a schoolboy. Andy was right — Cory was easy to pin. I wasn’t close to being hard yet, and yet Cory was getting thicker by the second.
“Don’t tag out,” Cory whispered to me. I gave him a quizzical look, and he repeated. “Dont tag out. Make me cum.”
I shrugged. “Um, OK,” I said at a normal volume. “Let’s reset.” I got off Cory, and we started to circle each other again. I glanced over at Eric and he was struggling to take Andy down. Andy was sticking straight out, but both Eric and I were plump, but not erect.
Cory came at me with his arms around my waist, which I was kind of interested to see how it played out, like what his endgame was. I let him take me down, and he was immediately on top of me, covering me with his body. His cock pressed against me, starting to grind. Smiling, I easily flipped him over onto his back by wrapping him up in a bear hug. Cory kept thrusting, hard enough to cum by my estimation. He had a determined look on his face. I chuckled. “Do you want to cum first?” I whispered. Cory nodded, licking his lips. I shrugged again.
I came up to straddling, finally hard, and gripped his cock. It was absolutely wet with precum, but I didn’t try and tag Andy, but instead sort of hid his erection by leaning forward and grinding his cock with the cleft between my pelvis and inner thigh. I wasn’t about to cum first.
Andy saw. “Tag!” he shouted, leapt off Eric and practically shoved me off Cory. I rolled to the side as Andy climbed on top of Cory and they started humping their dicks together.
“Damn,” Eric said, casually walking over to me with a raging hard on. We both watched Andy and Cory grind their bodies together as if the world was ending in that minute and they had to both cum to save the planet. I heard Cory moan first, and Andy let out a little laugh. I guess Cory did want to cum first. Andy let out a little fuck and I saw his body shiver out of the corner of my eye.
I stretched out on the floor, and Eric straddled me at first, but then he mirrored me, stretching his body out on top of me. “Gotcha,” he said, and he kissed me deeply while smiling. I playfully tapped the floor twice, giving up.
“Gross, are you guys kissing?”
Eric broke our lip-lock. “Like you care. Finish finishing yourself off on Cory and then we can debate the finer points of who’s kissing who.”
Damn, I thought. My man. Andy and Cory went to the bathroom.
Eric started to grind harder, the way he knew how to get me to cum, and of course it was just a few seconds before I erupted all over his cock. Eric came a few second later, moaning, smiling the little smile I loved where the corners of his mouth actually turned down. “Cory really got you there, huh,” he whispered to me, our foreheads touching.
“You got me there,” I said.
Eric waited a beat. “If you want to do it with Cory, I’m cool with it,” he said. “Just let me watch.”
I was still thrusting my wet cock against Eric’s. “I mean, I don’t know. He told me not to tag out,” I admitted.
“I knew it,” Eric said, smiling, maybe just to himself. “It’s cool. I still love you. Just … wake me up if Cory tries anything.”
WHOA my mind spiraled. We had never said the whole I love you thing, and yet Eric just blew right on past that and onto the fact that he would still love me if I wrestled with Cory. Holy crap, I thought to myself — my brain was barely over having a huge orgasm, and Eric springs this one on me —
“Earth to Bobby,” Eric joked, pushing himself up slightly into cobra position on top of me, a fresh blossom of pleasure as our spent-but-thick cocks pressed together anew.
“Yeah — I mean, yeah!” I said, trying to brighten up and gather my thoughts. “I, uh, I guess let’s see what kind of mood Cory is in later.”
My brain was a ticker-tape of holy crap, holy crap, holy crap for the rest of the evening. Eric and Andy had a whole argument about kissing that I barely paid attention to. Andy’s mom came home, there was pizza, there was (I think) an episode of Alien Nation or The X-Files or something, maybe both. Eric held my hand on the couch, under a blanket. I held his hand back, tight. I knew I had to say I loved him back — and I did, I loved him — but, like, the gauntlet was thrown down, and I had to find the right time to admit it back to him. The ball was in my court, the fuse was lit, the opera lady was singing, and I had to —
Well, and it was lights out before I knew it. We all climbed into sleeping bags on the floor, but my brain was wired awake. I stared at the popcorn over my head. Headlights from the cars that drove by the house angled across the walls and up to the ceiling, fading as they rounded the corner. I counted at least 30 cars. My eyelids were finally getting heavy, and my thoughts were getting random. Eric was dead asleep, because I could hear him snoring lightly.
“Hey,” Cory breathed into my ear. The hairs on my arms stood on end.
“Oh, uh, hey,” I replied, whispering, trying to be casual. I pawed at Eric’s back though the sleeping bag, trying to reach him even though my arm was kind of trapped. I thought I was able to reach him, but his snores continued.
“Um, so, I’m sorry Andy pushed you,” Cory started. “I was just, I kind of … I don’t know, I kind of wanted to cum with you,” he said.
More reaching, trying to free my arm, but subtly, not trying to raise attention. “Yeah, um, I’d be cool with that,” I said. “How … uh, do you want to do something now?” I asked. “We have to be quiet.”
Cory climbed on top of my sleeping bag. I finally freed my arm and practically punched Eric in the back. He grunted and went back to snoring. Cory’s face was an inch from mine, and I could feel him start to grind. “Do you want to get naked?” he asked. Even though the light was dim, I could see a half smile on his face.
I sighed. I had to admit, I was hard. I could cum. Eric said it was OK, but I just wished I could wake him. “Sure. Do you want to be on top for a change?” I asked.
Cory grinned in the dim light, nodding. “Yeah,” he said.
Cory climbed off me quickly, in the opposite direction of Eric, as I quickly escaped my sleeping bag and slipped off my shirt and pants. I swatted at Eric to try and rouse him, but my efforts were in vain — he was dead to the world. A car passed by outside the house, and the beam of the headlights crossed the room, illuminating Cory’s body and erection. Andy was sleeping soundly just behind him.
Cory was … how can I put this … he wasn’t fat by any stretch, he was just a little, I don’t know, fluffier than Eric. He was strong, but not toned, exactly. Eric’s shapely calves were like a drug to me, and Cory’s legs were more or less angular, straight lines connected to his ankles. What was the harm? I figured. Eric said it was OK.
It was OK if he could watch, I clarified to myself. I tried to kick Eric lightly to wake him up. No dice. I sighed. My own erection was betraying my excitement. My heart was beating, and I really did honestly want to be under Cory. For the moment he was briefly on top of me earlier in the afternoon, it seemed like if he could have stayed there, he would have made me cum in less than a minute.
“Wait,” I said, trying to delay one last time in an effort to rouse Eric. “Do you have lube? Lotion? Something?” I asked.
Eric held up a finger and nodded. He knelt and reached down deep at the foot of his sleeping bag. I knelt too and whispered a sharp “hey,” in Eric’s ear. “Get up, Cory’s gonna get with me,” I hissed.
“Mmmf,” Eric mumbled. “Have fun.”
I sighed again, coming up to standing. OK, I thought. That counts as permission. I looked at Cory, and he had a crimp-top tube of Astroglide, identical to one that I made Andy buy at the drug store. I figured it was the same one. It was nearly empty.
Cory stepped up to me and squeezed out some of the lube on his hand. He stroked himself, and then he — pausing briefly first — stroked me. I inhaled. It didn’t feel bad. My heart was still pounding, though, since it wasn’t Eric. Cory nodded, and I laid back on my sleeping bag. Cory followed me down, straddling my thighs at first, interlacing our fingers, letting me find a comfortable place. Is this what he did with Andy? I thought. No, it couldn’t be — this is what Andy does with him — Andy’s always on top.
Andy, I suppose, could be surprisingly gentle. I looked over Cory’s shoulder, and Andy’s sleeping bag hadn’t moved, a dark lump on the floor maybe six feet away.
Cory climbed up my body and stretched out, locking his chin over my shoulder. Eric and I had been kissing for long enough that I half-expected it from Cory, but it only occured to me a split second after he didn’t plunge his tongue into my mouth that this was our first time together, and he wasn’t going to be the one to break that seal.
That’s when I felt Cory’s hand squeeze between our bodies. Cory lifted his hips slightly, and wrapped his hand around both our cocks. The word that flashed through my mind was knuckles, because that’s what I felt more than his cock squeezing against me. It wasn’t unpleasant, I suppose, just different — and it started to feel better as Cory started to stroke a little as we rolled our hips together.
Cory flexed his quads and glutes, grinding against me. A wave of pleasure coursed through my body, and I wrapped Cory in a hug, my arms coming up under his armpits, my left hand grabbing my whole right wrist in sort of a reverse pin. I was holding him on top of me.
As Cory jacked us off as our bodies squeezed together, I wondered if this wasn’t something that boys were just naturally programmed to do — there was no fear, no hestiation, no testing: Cory knew I wanted it, and I knew he wanted it too. Our cocks were slick with lube, and I knew I wasn’t going to last long under him, in his grip. In places where Eric might have slightly shifted his weight or came up to straddling, Cory just plowed ahead — his breathing got deeper, his muscles started to shiver as the pleasure got overwhelming for him. It was fun to feel his fist react. The whole experience was different than Eric, but also I imagined I was different than Andy in the sense that I was giving him control. I pressed my hips up into him with every thrust, and I felt Cory nodding, silent, signaling to me that his orgasm was imminent.
Cory came, and he kept his mouth shut, just the tiniest squeak through his nose. I felt the explosion of his cum on my cock, and the hot slipperiness increased dramatically, which felt incredible to me. I kept thrusting my cock into his grip, and eventually felt the rising sensation deep in my shaft as my cum started to spurt out of me, several quick throbs followed by long, slow leaky flows of cum all over Cory’s hand.
Cory relaxed his body on top of mine, and we stayed there until we were both soft — absolutely silent, regulating our breathing. Cory retracted his hand, using our bodies as a way to wipe it clean on the way out. I was still a little afraid that Eric would wake up and see Cory on top of me and wonder why I didn’t wake him up; Cory was probably worried Andy would wake up and … I don’t know, feel whatever feelings Andy would have about seeing Cory and me naked together.
Finally, Cory pushed himself up off me, whispered a quick “thanks,” and found his way to the bathroom. I laid there, my cock wet with our cum, and didn’t move. I let my heartbeat return to normal, and I figured if Eric or Andy saw just me naked with my junk all wet, it wouldn’t matter much. It wasn’t anything either of them hadn’t seen before.
Cory came back from the bathroom and went straight back into his sleeping bag. I grabbed my clothes and went to the bathroom to wash up. I didn’t know how much more sleep I was going to get that night. Perhaps you can imagine my surprise when I was the last to wake up the following morning. Andy’s mom was making pancakes in the kitchen. Cory was trying to take Eric down to the floor as they wrestled a little behind the couch.
“Hey, Sleeping Beauty has arisen,” Cory said, hearing me yawn and stretch.
“Mmmf,” I said. “G’mrng,” I mumbled.
We had breakfast, and I knew Eric wanted to ask me if I got with Cory overnight, but it never seemed to come up, with all the adults around.
Now it was two things I needed to tell him.