October 27, 1994
“I have great news,” Eric said on the bus to school. “My dad got on the board at Rotary.”
“Oh!” I said, happy for my friend, but slightly perplexed. I thought Eric’s dad was a dentist, and his mom was a bookkeeper. “What’s Rotary?”
“It’s a kind of service club. My mom and dad both joined it because they said it was a networking opportunity. But yeah, he got elected to the board,” Eric said.
“Well, congratulations, I guess! What … uh … what makes this great news?” I asked, still confused.
“They have a board meeting on the last Thursday of every month at the Hungry Hunter from 4 to 6 p.m. They said I’m old enough now that I don’t have to have to come with them, and I can stay home.” Eric looked at me. “They said you can come over, if you want.”
Fireworks were going off in my brain. Was this the invitation I thought it was? “That’s this Thursday. Day after tomorrow?” I asked.
“Yup,” he said, emphasizing the plosive with a pop. “The 27th. Do you want to come over and, uh, do homework?”
That uh was doing a lot of heavy lifting in that sentence. “You know it,” I said. My heart was already racing.
“Cool,” Eric said with a smile.
I could barely sleep the night before. I would drift off, wake up, remember that tomorrow is Thursday, get excited, and stare at the ceiling until I drifted off again. Of course, it didn’t help that we were having an unseasonably hot, humid late summer, and my dad refused to run the air conditioning at night.
Early Thursday morning, Eric and I both showed up at the bus stop in basketball shorts. “It’s hot already,” I lamented. “It’s gotta be 80 degrees.” Eric agreed. I did delight in seeing Eric’s calves though. Any day when I saw them was a good day.
The school day passed quickly. Andy got his name on the board because he was talking too much. Cory disappeared at break and lunch for some reason. I don’t know who decided that the end of the school day happened at exactly 2:04, but that’s when we left the air-conditioned bubble of room 308 to slog home on the school bus. All the windows were down to try and get some relief from the heat. It was impossible to talk because of the wind noise.
“I saw Cory holding hands with a girl,” Eric said as we de-bussed.
“No way,” I said. “With who?”
“You know Lauren, right?”
“Lauren Wright?!” I replied, agog, mishearing. Lauren Wright was probably the most popular girl in the seventh grade, and I was shocked that she knew who any us were. She had a different advisement room than we did.
“No,” Eric chuckled. “Lauren Martinez. She sits at table three, with Heather and Jessica and the other girl,” he added. “I think she goes to Cory’s church.”
“Wow,” I said. “I wonder what Andy thinks.”
Eric shrugged. The heat was intense. We walked quickly to get out of the heat (and out of excitement), stopping at my parents’ house first to let them know I’d be over at Eric’s. Mom said to be home by 6 for dinner.
The blast of air conditioning as we entered Eric’s house was refreshing. Eric’s mom was sitting at the dining table with a client’s accounting paperwork, and she turned when we came inside. “Is it hot out there?”
“Yessss,” we both said simultaneously, in a matching weary tone.
“Hi Mrs. Watanabe,” I said. I eyeballed the grandfather clock in the entryway. 2:45.
“Hi Bobby,” Eric’s mom said. “I made some Crystal Light, do you want some?”
“Yes please,” we said simultaneously. I’d take anything that wasn’t room-temperature tap water.
“I’ll bring it up to you,” she said.
I had never actually been inside Eric’s room before. Every surface was covered in WWF action figures. WWF posters covered the walls. Perhaps the thing that surprised me the most was the life-size poster of a man in a pink outfit next to Eric’s desk. There was a height chart printed on it, and the guy was six feet tall. “Who’s that?” I asked.
“The Hitman!” Eric said. “Bret Hart. He hates Hulk Hogan. It’s criminal what Hulk did to him at SummerSlam.” I honestly knew none of this, and had no idea Eric was so into it. I mean, I guess he did say so at dinner that one time, but I thought it was just something to say to get the conversation off wrestling — the kind of wrestling we were doing, at least.
“You really like WWF, huh?” I said, somewhat in awe. Eric’s mom knocked on the door and came in with two big plastic cups full of lemonade Crystal Light. We thanked her (again, simultaneously), and gulped for a minute to cool off.
The homework we had wasn’t difficult, but it was tedious. Every class had one little thing to do — a crossword for social studies, a worksheet for science, a problem set of turning fractions into percentages for math, a spelling worksheet for English. We were just starting the spelling worksheet when Eric’s mom came in at 3:30.
“OK boys, you’re on your own, I have to go pick up your dad. Bobby, I’d love for you to stay for dinner but I didn’t make enough for the both of you.”
“That’s OK Mrs. Watanabe, I have to be home for dinner at 6,” I replied.
“Eric, there’s a Tupperware in the refrigerator with chicken and rice. One minute in the microwave, take it out, stir it, put it back for another minute.”
“Got it mom, thanks,” Eric said.
“Be good,” Mrs. Watanabe said as she turned. We went back to our homework and listened to the garage door grind open underneath us, the car start, and the garage door grind closed. We looked up and out the window and watched Mrs. Watanabe drive away. It’s almost as if we were afraid to acknowledge we were finally alone.
“Let’s finish, quick,” Eric said. “Actually, forget it, the test isn’t until Tuesday.” And then: “Do you want to wrestle?” Eric smiled. My heart started to pound.
“For sure,” I said. I stood up from the desk and started to take off my shoes. “Your bed is big,” I said. It must have been a queen-size.
“It’s my parents’ old bed. It’s super squeaky. But that’s OK!” Eric delighted in explaining as he took off his shoes and jumped onto it, causing it to creak angrily.
“How about I show you some of my favorite moves?” Eric asked. “You’ll love it, I promise.”
I hesitated for a moment. Wrestling — that is, television-style wrestling — had never been my thing: I was more into books and video games.
And yet.
We both knew what it was going to lead to. He knew. He knew I knew. The spark in his eyes was infectious, and I found myself nodding. “All right, let’s give it a shot.”
We started with the basics. Eric showed me how to lock up, how to apply a headlock, and how to escape from one. As we went through the motions, I couldn’t help but laugh. Wrestling was actually kind of fun when you weren’t getting slammed onto the carpet by Andy.
Soon enough, we decided to have a match. Eric took on the role of the villain, complete with a dramatic monologue about his evil plans. I was the hero, and we engaged in a theatrical battle on his bed. It was all in good fun, and our excitement was palpable.
At one point, I found myself in a perilous situation. Eric had me in a headlock, and it looked like all hope was lost. But I remembered the escape move he had shown me earlier. With all the strength I could muster, I twisted my body and broke free, rolling Eric onto his back. To my surprise and delight, I managed to pin him down for a brief moment.
“Ha! Gotcha!” I exclaimed, grinning from ear to ear as I held Eric’s shoulders to the bed. I felt an unmistakeable twitch in my area.
Eric laughed, applauding my effort. “You’re a quick learner! That was awesome!”
Flushed with victory, we continued, with both of us leaning into the hero/villain narrative. But as we grappled and tumbled on the bed, I couldn’t shake the feeling that Eric was holding back, perhaps to make sure I didn’t feel overwhelmed. Or maybe something else was happening to his body.
We took a break for some Crystal Light, but the ice had all melted. Neither of us cared. Eric suggested we have one final match to determine the ultimate champion. “This time, Bobby,” he said with a glint of competitiveness, “we’re going all out.”
We circled each other on the bed, both determined to win. It was a fierce battle, filled with flips, holds, and daring leaps. At one point, I almost had Eric pinned, but he managed to wriggle free just in time. The adrenaline was pumping, and our laughter bounced off the posters lining his walls, Eric’s bed groaning and squeaking.
Then, in a moment that felt like it was straight out of WWF, Eric executed a perfectly timed move. He grabbed my arm, twisted me around, and with a powerful push, he pinned me to the bed with his full body weight, his chest and thighs in full contact with mine.
“One, two, three!” he shouted dramatically, counting out the pin and slapping his hand on the bedspread, and I couldn’t help but laugh.
“Okay, okay, you win!” I said, still panting from our intense match.
Eric didn’t move.
I squirmed slightly, and then I felt it. Eric was rock-hard. He pushed himself up slightly and locked eyes with me, smiling a little half-smile.
I was maybe semi-erect, but the exertion of the match had focused my body’s attention elsewhere. But the way Eric was looking at me, and the way his cock felt against mine through the thin layers of synthetic fabric was getting me to full mast, and quickly. I pushed my hips up into his, tentatively, feeling an electric blossom of pleasure ripple through my body.
“Are you OK? I’m not too heavy?” Eric asked, whispering, even though the house was empty.
“You feel good,” I said, matching his volume. “I like being, um, under you.”
“Just don’t tell Andy,” Eric said, in a moment of self-awareness. I chuckled. The fast rise and fall of my chest bumped Eric up on top of me.
“So, listen, there’s something I think I want to try,” I said. We kept gently grinding our cocks together.
“Yeah?”
“Like, what we’re doing now, but, um, naked. And with lotion?” I waited a beat. “I think it would feel good.”
Eric thought for a split second, and bounced off me. “Yup,” he said, with the same plosive pop on the last letter. “I am ready for that.” He went into his dresser to the bottom of the middle drawer, and found a bottle of lotion. I bent at the waist and came up to sitting, and he showed it to me. I smiled and nodded, and Eric pulled his shirt off over his head.
I would always laugh in movies when the screen would go all soft-focus around the edges, and a goofy song would play when one of the characters did something sexy, like when a girl let her hair down. But today was the first day it happened to me for real, but inside my brain. I couldn’t tear my eyes off Eric’s body — slender, smooth, with slightly darker skin than mine. I watched him pull off his shorts and underwear in one smooth motion, revealing his erect cock and jet black bush. “Hey, are you gonna undress?” he asked, breaking me out of my reverie.
“Oh, right,” I said, pulling my shorts and underwear off first by hooking my thumbs under the elastic waistbands. My shirt came off next, but I wasn’t as graceful as Eric, and it got stuck around my head but came off eventually. Our socks stayed on. I don’t know why, but I loved the way his calves looked in socks, so I was glad they did.
I laid back on the bed, and Eric straddled me with the bottle of lotion in his hand. He squeezed some out and stroked his cock until it was slippery. Then he did the same for mine. He was taking a light touch, obviously, he didn’t want to jack off, he wanted to try this … thing … that I had come up with and been secretly craving for the last month-and-a-half. Eric realized he forgot something to wipe his hand with, and he just wiped it on his thigh.
“Ready?” Eric asked.
“Yeah,” I said.
Eric stretched out over me, covering my body with his. We interlaced our fingers almost automatically, without thinking, and bent our elbows into acute angles, our hands near our ears. Eric put his head next to mine, over my shoulder, but close enough to where I could smell the lemon on his breath. His hips came down slowly, and our cocks made contact. Delicious and smooth and with just the right amount of friction we both grunted, just tiny little uhs, like our breath caught in our throat, at the incredible new sensation of pleasure we were feeling. Eric rolled his hips up a little, not thrusting really, but more rocking to slide our cocks against one another and sandwich them together with our tummies.
“Oh man,” Eric mumbled into the bedspread on his third stroke.
“I know,” I said, slightly muffled as I turned my head and my nose got tickled by Eric’s hair. My heart was pounding out of my chest. Or was it Eric’s heartbeat I was feeling?
I spread my feet apart and wrapped my legs around Eric’s, almost like a corkscrew, in an effort to pull Eric closer. We worked into a rhythm, and found a sort of sweet spot with a little trial and error. We must have looked ridiculous — two skinny boys, writhing our naked bodies together for no other purpose than chasing the pleasure of an orgasm.
The lotion was everywhere between us by now, which made the slip a little easier, and next time I had to remember to put a little more on my tummy, too. We were both breathing hard, and realizing that in this hot, sticky weather, two hot boy bodies were getting a little sweaty. But we didn’t care. It just made it —
“Oh crap — I can’t, I’m cumming,” I said suddenly, feeling a huge rising sensation start at the base of my cock and up through my shaft. My cock throbbed, and unlike last time, I wasn’t nervous or anxious or anything, and my body was overwhelmed with pleasure. A radiating wave of endorphins scrambled my brain as Eric held me down with his body, cum filling what little space there was between us. It was the most intense orgasm I had ever experienced. It got much more slippery down there as a result, and Eric kept thrusting.
Eric’s body convulsed sharply on top of me, his hands gripping mine tight has he came, and I focused my attention in my cock. “Unnnnh,” Eric groaned with intense pleasure. Could I feel it? Could I feel his cock throb against me? I tried really hard but realized I couldn’t, as much as I wanted to feel his orgasm just as intensely as I felt my own. Mostly it felt hot and wet and sticky.
Our chests were heaving, and we just laid there in a puddle for a minute, neither of us really wanting it to end. Finally, Eric spread his fingers out, signaling maybe I should release his hands. I did, reluctantly, along with disentangling our legs. “I kind of want to see what it looks like,” Eric said.
“Me too,” I said, with legitimate curiosity. It felt like a gallon of cum.
Eric came up on his haunches, straddling me, and we observed the sticky mess we had made. It wasn’t as much as it felt like, but it was white and gooey, and made the heads of our cocks shiny. Most of it was in a spidery glob on my tummy. Both our erections were getting soft, and I was transfixed at the sight of his cock resting crosswise on mine.
“That, uh,” my voice cracking as I spoke, “felt amazing. It was like, so much more intense than last time,” I said.
“Totally,” Eric said. “When you did the leg thing, I didn’t think I was into it at first, but then it started to feel really good. I kind of want to try it with you on top.”
“Next time,” I said.
“Next time,” Eric said, smiling.
“Eric,” I said, looking at my friend with a newfound appreciation, “I think I’m a wrestling fan now.” A door had been opened between us that, though we didn’t know it at the time, would lead us to a very long journey indeed.
Eric grinned. “I knew you’d come around, Bobby.”