This is going to be mostly Miguel’s chapter, as his two new friendships start to develop in interesting ways. But first, Neil is about to have an encounter he would much rather have done without: it is still a fine, hot and sunny summer, but there are some nasty dark clouds on the horizon…
With less than two weeks to go until the end of term everyone was starting to look forward to the holidays, and maybe it was this that had made Neil and Kam get a little careless. Neil didn’t realise there was a problem until he walked round the corner at break on the Thursday and found three skinheads waiting for him. One was in his own class, but the other two were older: he wasn’t sure if they were in the year above his, or the year above that, but it didn’t make any difference, because either way they were bigger than he was.
“Why do you hang around with that Paki all the time?” asked the biggest one, not bothering to waste time with small talk.
“Yeah, why do you?” echoed the one from his own year, whose name was Edwards. “Do you fancy him or something?”
“N… no, of course not,” stammered Neil, hoping he wasn’t blushing, which he was sure would be a dead giveaway.
“Well, why, then?” asked the leader. “Aren’t white kids good enough for you, or something?”
“No… I mean, yes… look, I only kick a ball about with him at break – and it’s not just me, either. Quite a few of us do.”
“Yes, but the others don’t hang about with him out of school, do they?” said Edwards. “I saw you talking to him on Sunday afternoon. I thought you might just have met him by accident, but then last night you waited for him after school and went off together. So that’s not just kicking a ball about at break, is it?”
“Well, no… but him and me and some others sometimes play football on Sundays, too. That’s all we talk about…”
“Well, don’t. There are plenty of white kids who can play football, Carter. Stick with them. After all, you wouldn’t want us to start thinking you’re a Paki-lover, would you? Nasty things can happen to those.”
The leader pulled out a large flick-knife and started ostentatiously cleaning his nails with it.
“It would be a real pity if we got the wrong idea about you, now, wouldn’t it?” he added, and then turned and sauntered away, followed by his two followers.
Neil thought that it would be a great deal worse if they got the right idea about him: after all, if it was unacceptable just to talk to a Pakistani boy, how would they react to a white boy that has sex with one? That knife had looked really scary…
He was sufficiently scared that he avoided Kam at lunchtime and didn’t hang around after school, either. But when he got home he phoned Kam up and explained what had happened.
“Oh, shit,” was Kam’s reaction. “Well, look, Neil, I don’t want you getting turned over by that lot, so if you don’t want us to be friends any more I’ll understand.”
“Fuck that,” said Neil, taking Kam aback: Neil hardly ever swore. “You’re my friend – more than just a friend, even, and I’m not going to drop you just because a bunch of idiots with half a brain between them tell me to. I’d just like to keep it down a bit until the end of term, that’s all. So I’d prefer not to walk home with you any more this term, okay?”
“That’s all right. I mean, I’ll miss you coming round in the evenings, but I suppose…”
“I’ll still be coming round,” interrupted Neil. “At least, if it’s okay with you, that is. I’d just prefer us to go to your place separately, that’s all. If they don’t see me with you outside school, with any luck they’ll have forgotten about it by the end of term.”
“Okay. But look, Neil, if it’s going to make things difficult for you I could put up with not seeing you so often…”
“What, do you want to get rid of me, or something?”
“Of course not, stupid. You’re my best friend. I just don’t want you getting beaten up because of me, that’s all.”
“I won’t if we’re careful. And even if I do, I reckon you’re worth it. But I’d prefer to avoid it, so I’d like to keep my head down a bit until the end of next week. I just called because I don’t want you to think I’ve changed my mind about you, or anything, because I haven’t: you’re still my friend and I want us to stay that way. Okay?”
“Okay. And… look, I’m really sorry I got you into this, Neil.”
“You didn’t get me into anything, I got myself into it. And we’re not hurting anyone by being friends, and as far as I’m concerned it’s nobody else’s business. So there’s nothing for you to be sorry about, Kam, okay? So I’m coming round on Saturday like we agreed. Oh, and I am going to be allowed to camp out with you during the holidays, too – I forgot to tell you earlier. So we can go and do stuff in the garage as much as we like, and I’m really looking forward to it, and no pea-brained moron is going to stop me. Right?”
“Right,” agreed Kam. But after he had hung up he still found himself worrying that his friendship with Neil was likely to result in his friend being beaten up…
Until fairly recently Miguel had spent most of his Saturdays at home, but he had been to visit Andy a couple of weeks previously, and this Saturday he had been invited to visit James for the first time. Of course they had to stay in the house, because it was once again a bright, sunny day.
“I must be the only kid in our school who’d like it to rain sometimes,” commented James, taking Miguel up to his bedroom. “I suppose that’s pretty selfish, but it would mean I could go outside without having to wear long trousers and long-sleeved shirts all the time… Anyway, I don’t suppose you want to listen to me moaning about the nice weather, so what would you like to do this afternoon?”
“I do not mind,” said Miguel. “What do you like to do?”
“I read a lot, so if you like we could both sit quietly and read books… no, I thought not. I like listening to music, which I suppose would be okay… or” (and he closed the door at this point) “I could just get you back for all that tickling you and Andy did to me. After all, now he’s not here to help you I shouldn’t have any trouble getting you back, should I?”
“That is not fair,” protested Miguel. “You are older and stronger than me.”
“I know. Good, isn’t it?” And James grabbed him, pushed him onto the bed and jumped on him, tickling away at his ribs. Miguel was only wearing a thin tee-shirt, which didn’t protect him at all, and he was soon writhing frantically and begging for mercy.
“You are a bully,” he said, when he finally got his breath back. “On Monday Andy and I will undress you and tickle you to pieces in front of the whole school.”
“No, you won’t,” said James, confidently, sitting down beside him. “You might do that to me next time we go round to Andy’s house, but you’d never do it in public. Friends don’t do that to each other. Anyway, you don’t have to wait until Monday, because I’ve got some cards here: if you beat me, you can tickle me. Is that fair?”
“Yes!” agreed Miguel, who was confident of his ability to beat James at poker even without having Andy there to collaborate with.
“Then let’s play strip poker,” said James. “Whoever is naked first gets tickled.”
Miguel agreed straight away and grabbed the pack, shuffling it and starting to deal. But apparently James had been practising, because he played far better than he had at Andy’s house and the game progressed very evenly, until they were both wearing nothing but their underpants.
“You cannot count your glasses,” said Miguel, preparing to deal the next hand. “That would not be fair.”
“Don’t worry, I won’t, because I’m almost blind without them. I certainly couldn’t see the cards if I didn’t have my specs on.”
“Is that true? Then perhaps I should make you to take them off if you lose the next hand.”
“That would give me an extra item… so okay, then.”
James promptly lost the next hand and removed his glasses, holding them out to Miguel.
“Can you put them somewhere safe?” he asked. “On the bookcase should be okay.”
“Why do not you do it?”
“Because now I can’t even see the bookcase. Normally I only take them off when I’m already in bed and put them on the bedside table so that I can find them easily in the morning. So really you’ve already won this game, because if you lose I won’t be able to see you properly… I suppose I should have thought of that before…”
Miguel put the specs on top of the bottom row of books in the bookcase and dealt another hand. James held his cards about half an inch from his eyes and squinted furiously, but then he shrugged.
“I can tell that one of them is a court card, and I can make out black from red, but that’s about it,” he said. “So I’ll just change them at random and hope for the best.”
Three changes later Miguel was looking at two pairs.
“What have I got?” asked James, putting his cards down.
“Nothing at all. You have a jack high.”
“Okay,” said James, standing up and removing his pants. “Of course, I could have four aces for all I know, but I trust you, Miguel… so, do you want to tie me to the bed, or are you just going to tickle me a bit?”
“If you do not struggle, I will not tie you to the bed.”
So James got onto the bed and Miguel sat beside him and started to tickle his ribs. James put up with it for about fifteen seconds and then reacted by grabbing Miguel and counter-attacking, and the only way Miguel could think of to stop the counter-attack was to grab James’s penis and twist sharply. James gave a gasp and froze, though part of him reacted by growing quite a bit harder.
“Now I will have to tie you up,” said Miguel, twisting a bit more. “Put your hands above your head…. Do you have any string?”
“In the cupboard,” said James. Obviously when Miguel went to get the string, and the scissors that James told him to find in one of his drawers, James could have escaped, but he made no attempt to do so, just allowing Miguel to tie his wrists and ankles to the bed.
“Please can I have my glasses?” he asked, once he was secured. “I’d like to see what’s happening.”
“No,” said Miguel. “You do not deserve them. It will be a worse punishment if you cannot see… now, I think that you did not like it when we did this…”
He seized James’s erection and gave it a Chinese burn, and very quickly he had James swearing that he’d never attack Miguel like that again, and that he’d do whatever he was told… Miguel simply tickled every inch of him for the next ten minutes, and then untied him and handed him his glasses.
“You shouldn’t have let me have these back,” said James, putting them on. “I’d have been helpless without them – I couldn’t even have found my clothes to get dressed again…”
Miguel got the hidden message and snatched the glasses off again, returning them to the bookcase, but this time hiding them behind some books.
“This will teach you to attack younger boys,” he said. “And if you try to do anything to me, I will hurt this,” and he slapped James’s erection, which quivered interestingly.
“Do you know why it sticks up like that?” James asked him. “Only I really don’t know anything about sex at all, which is a bit embarrassing when you think that I’m nearly thirteen and a half.”
“I do not know about it, either. But I thought senior boys have lessons about it…”
“Not at Inchley, they don’t,” said James, gloomily. “I suppose I’ll have to hope they’ll teach it at whatever school I go to next year. Okay, I could probably ask my dad, but I’d be far too embarrassed. I was hoping you might be able to help me find out…”
“I am sorry. And I think I am too young to ask my father: he would ask why I want to know so soon, I think. But you could ask Andy. Perhaps he knows.”
“I’d be almost as embarrassed asking him – I mean, having to ask an eleven-year-old about sex? That would be really humiliating…”
“But you are asking me, and I am not yet eleven, not until next week.”
“You’re different, somehow. You’re my friend and I trust you not to laugh at me… so it’s your birthday next week, is it? When?”
“The nineteenth. But I am not having a party then. We have a family party when we are in Spain.”
“But the nineteenth is Monday, and you’re not going away until after the end of term… and, anyway, you said your cousin and his family won’t be there, so you won’t get a proper party this year… Did you find someone to go with you, by the way?”
“Yes, there is a boy in my form who will come. He is not a good friend as you are, but I think it will be okay.”
“Okay, but it won’t be the same… if you like we can go out after school on Monday and have a burger, or something. I’ll pay for you.”
“That would be nice. I will ask my parents when I go home.”
“Good. You ought to do something on your birthday… besides being tickled, of course.” James grabbed him and started to tickle him once more, though this time he managed to feel his way down to Miguel’s waist and pull his pants down, too. Miguel tried to wriggle free, confident that if he once managed to get out of James’s reach the older boy wouldn’t be able to catch him, blind as he was, but James held on, dragging him onto the floor, where they wrestled for a bit until Miguel finally found himself pinned down.
James slid his hand down, took hold of Miguel’s penis and squeezed, and soon it was as hard as his own.
“See, it happens to you, too,” he pointed out, getting up and feeling his way back to the bed, where he lay on his back. Miguel came and lay next to him, making no attempt to put his pants back on, and took hold of James’s erection once more, though this time he just held it gently and stroked it a little to see how hard it was.
“That feels nice,” said James.
“Do it to me, then” suggested Miguel, guiding his friend’s hand into the correct place. And he quickly decided that James was right: being stroked like this did feel really nice. So he did it some more to James, and James did it some more to him…
“Are you certain that your parents will not come in?” Miguel asked.
“Of course I am. You don’t think I’d be doing this otherwise, do you? No, it’s a rule in the house that we never go into each other’s rooms – Mum and Dad treat me like an adult most of the time. Which is really useful at times like this… Have you ever done this before, Miguel?”
“Sometimes when I go to visit Andy we undress and wrestle. And sometimes we touch each other like this. It feels good.”
“It does, doesn’t it? I’ve never done this before, except for that time when you and Andy were trying to make it stick up, but I really like it. It feels sort of warm…”
“Sometimes Andy and I do this,” said Miguel, rolling on top of his friend.
When he and Andy did this it was usually as part of a wrestling match, but instead James slipped his arms around Miguel and held him gently, and Miguel thought that felt nice, too. So he relaxed and nuzzled up against James’s cheek, and James stroked his hair with one hand and his back with the other…
They lay like that for about five minutes, until James said, quietly, “You’re getting a bit heavy, Miguel.”
Miguel rolled off to the side and they looked at each other. Both were aware that something had changed, that they had moved on from wrestling and teasing each other to… well, somewhere else, though neither knew how to express what he was feeling. Miguel got up and retrieved James’s glasses and passed them to him, and then slowly got dressed, and James put his glasses on and then got back into his own clothes. Neither spoke while they were dressing, but then once they were fully clothed once more they both started to speak at once.
“Look, Miguel, I…”
“James, I think…”
They looked at each other and laughed.
“You go first,” said James.
“Well… I do not know how… why… I mean… you should go first, I think.”
“I don’t think I really know what I want to say, either, except… I’ve never felt quite like that before. Holding you like that… it felt amazing, but sort of scary, too… it was sort of like I’d suddenly got a brother, one I really cared about – except it wasn’t really like a brother, exactly…I had to ask you to get off in the end because I felt as if I was about to start crying, which is really stupid and I can’t understand why, and now I sort of feel the same way again…I’m sorry…”
And James sat on the bed and hid his face in his hands, and Miguel, who felt very strange himself and thought that James’s description fitted him pretty well, too, sat down next to him and put his arm round him. And at that James, pausing only long enough to remove his glasses and drop them onto the bedside table, threw his arms round him and hugged him, and Miguel hugged him back and then started to cry himself, though he couldn’t begin to understand why, because what he was feeling was a strange sort of happiness…
Eventually James stood up and wiped his face, groping for his glasses. Miguel found them and gave them to him, and James put them on.
“God, Miguel, what’s happening to me? I feel…I don’t know how I feel. Look, we’d better go downstairs and watch telly for a bit, because I sort of need to calm myself down before my head explodes, or something…”
“Okay. But I think that you should wash your face first, because there are a lot of tear marks.”
“You, too,” said James, standing up. “Come on, I’ll show you where the bathroom is.”
So they washed their faces and went downstairs to watch the sport on the television, even though what was on offer (horse-racing, mostly) didn’t really interest either of them very much. But after a bit the wrestling came on, as it did every week, and they enjoyed that a lot more. They ate tea while watching, and by the time the wrestling had ended and they had finished eating their emotions had completely returned to normal.
Before Miguel went home they returned to James’s room and closed the door once more.
“Miguel,” said James, hesitantly, “we are still friends, aren’t we?”
“Of course we are still friends. More than we were, I think.”
“Yes, that’s how I feel too… Look, I’d really like us to do that cuddling thing again next time you come, if you don’t mind too much, because it felt really special, somehow.”
“I would like to do it again as well. It gave me a strange feeling, but it was good…”
Great!” said James, smiling at him. “I’m really glad you feel the same way as I do…I was scared in case you decided there was something wrong with me and didn’t want to come round here again.”
“There is nothing wrong with you, and I would like to come again – perhaps next Saturday?”
“Brilliant!”
James walked downstairs with Miguel and waited while he said goodbye and thank you to James’s parents, then walked to the end of his path with him and watched him cycle away. He wasn’t sure what exactly had made him feel the way he did, but, whatever it was, he was really glad it had happened…
On Sunday morning something happened that hadn’t taken place for quite a while: a rogue weather front rolled in from somewhere and it started to rain. It was still raining at lunchtime, putting paid to any idea of playing football and leaving most of the Collection at a loose end. Most of them decided to stay in and watch television, but Miguel couldn’t face that, so he phoned James up to find out if he could go round again – maybe, he thought they could have another try at lying on the bed together and see what happened. But when James came to the phone he said that he was really sorry, but his uncle and aunt were visiting, which meant that he couldn’t have anyone round and he couldn’t leave the house himself, either.
Miguel thought about going to visit Andy, but the bus service on a Sunday was really useless, and he didn’t fancy a long bike ride in the rain. So instead he got the phone book out and, as he had hoped and expected, discovered that there was only one Nakamura in it.
“No, I’m not doing anything,” Kenji told him. “I don’t usually do much on a Sunday… so do you want to come round? We can start trying to find out if we like the same things if you do.”
Miguel got directions, realised that Kenji only lived about half a mile away, and said he’d be there in ten minutes or so. But by now it was raining quite hard, so even though this was only a journey of less than five minutes on the bike, Miguel still reached Kenji’s doorstep looking like a drowned rat.
“I am sorry,” he said. “A car drove through a puddle and splashed me.”
“You’d better take your bike round the back,” said Kenji. “I’ll go and find a towel and a dry shirt for you, and I’ll meet you at the back door. You’ll have to leave your wet clothes in the kitchen, though: my mother will be very unhappy if you drip all through the house.”
So Miguel pushed his bike down the path that led to the back of the house and propped it against the wall, and a minute or so later the kitchen door opened and Kenji stood there holding a large, fluffy towel. His mother stood behind him.
“Get your wet stuff off and we’ll put it by the radiator,” he said. “Then dry yourself off and put this shirt on – I’ve probably got some shorts upstairs that will fit you, too.”
So Miguel stripped down to his underpants and towelled himself off with the towel while Kenji and his mother arrayed his clothes on a drying rack in front of the kitchen radiator. Then he pulled the tee shirt over his head – it was a couple of sizes too big for him and came down far enough to hide his briefs completely – and followed Kenji through the house and up the stairs to his bedroom.
“You don’t really need any shorts, do you?” Kenji asked, parking himself on the bed. “That shirt covers you quite well. And, besides, I’ve already seen what you’ve got underneath it, remember, so I know you’re the same colour all the way down. Though I suppose you might not be when we get back to school in September, not after you’ve been lying on a Spanish beach in your swimming trunks for a month.”
“I do not always wear trunks,” Miguel told him, sitting on the chair beside the bed. “There is a beach where we go at which you do not have to wear anything.”
“Really? A real nudist beach? I’ve heard of them, but I’ve never been to one. Now I’m starting to wish I was coming with you.”
“It is not really a nudist beach, because you do not have to be nude. But you can be if you want.”
“I bet that feels really interesting, swimming naked,” said Kenji. “I think I’d like to try that one day…. Anyway, what are we going to do today? Shall we find out if we both like the same things? Let’s start with sport – which football club do you support?”
“Real Zaragoza.”
“Who on earth are they?”
“It is a Spanish team. My father is from Zaragoza, and so I support them. There is a team from Algeciras, where I was born, but they are only in the Third Division, so I support the team from my father’s town.”
“Well, I support Crystal Palace, and they’re only in the Third Division too, but I still support them. What other games can you play?”
“Well… I am not much good at cricket… I can play tennis a bit.”
“So can I, but I’m not much good, either. Perhaps we could play each other some time, then. What about indoors? I don’t suppose you can play Go, can you?”
“What is Go?”
“Pity. It’s a Japanese game – okay, some people say it came from China first, but we usually think of it as Japanese. People say it’s like Japanese - or Chinese - chess, but really Go is much more difficult than chess.”
“I can play chess.”
“So can I, a bit, but I prefer Go. Maybe I can teach you.”
“And I can play cards, though mostly Spanish games. But I can play poker.”
“I’m not really all that interested in card games.”
“That is a pity. Perhaps you can teach me some martial arts, now that you know I will not use it to be a bully.”
“Yes, okay. But it would take you years to become really good at it.”
“Could you show me how you beat us when Andy and I attacked you?”
“Well, I could try. Stand up and help me get the bed out of the way.”
They pushed the bed against the wall, leaving a large space in the middle of the room, and for the next few minutes Kenji explained how to use an opponent’s weight and speed against him by turning one’s back into the onrushing attacker…
“And then you do this,” he said, grabbing Miguel’s wrist and using it to pull him across his back and dump him on the floor. “And if you keep hold of the wrist you can put on the lock I used on your friend – like this, see?”
“Ouch!” cried Miguel, his arm feeling as if it was about to break.
“Sorry. That was a bit too hard. Okay, now you try.”
They worked on it for a while, with mixed success: sometimes Miguel was actually able to put Kenji on the floor, but just as many times he failed.
“It takes a lot of practice,” Kenji told him, pulling the bed back into its usual place (his parents had just called up the stairs for them to stop banging on the ceiling). “You could try practicing with your friend – the one in your year, I mean. Better not try it on… what’s his name? James? Or you’ll probably break his glasses, and I bet specs that thick cost piles of money.”
“Now what shall we do?” asked Miguel.
“Well, I know I said I don’t usually like card games, but I suppose we could play strip poker,” said Kenji, grinning.
“No, thank you,” said Miguel, who was only too aware that he was only wearing a tee shirt and a pair of briefs. “Can you show me how to play your Japanese game?”
So Kenji got his Go set out and tried to explain how to play. “The rules are actually quite easy, but it takes a very long time to learn to play well. If you really want to learn how to play I’ll ask my father if he can find a small board: it’s easier for beginners to get used to it using a nine by nine board. This one is full size… still, we can play a quick game if you like, just to give you the general idea.”
The ‘quick’ game still lasted more than half an hour, at the end of which Miguel could understand the concept of the game, but Kenji had no difficulty in beating him comfortably.
“This is an interesting game,” said Miguel at the end of it. “I will try to learn it, if you will help me.”
“Okay. It’d be nice to have someone else to play against apart from my family. So… what would you like to do next?”
“Well… I wondered… do you know about sex?”
“Obviously. Don’t you?”
“No. So… could you teach me?”
“Why do you want to know?” asked Kenji, looking amused.
“I just want to know why… well, why it gets hard sometimes.”
“Well, when was the last time it went hard?”
“I think when I woke up this morning.”
“Yes, that often happens to me, too. Okay, show me – take your clothes off.”
Miguel hesitated for a moment but then pulled the tee shirt off. Kenji watched with interest as the briefs came off, too, revealing something small and soft.
“Come here,” he said, and Miguel advanced and stood in front of him, just as he had done the first time with Andy. Kenji reached out and took hold of it.
“Look, Miguel, you’re far too trusting for your own good,” he said. “I could hurt you really easily if I wanted to now, and you couldn’t do anything about it. And you hardly know me – so how can you trust me enough to strip off in front of me and let me touch you like this?”
“I do not think you will hurt me. And we know that you can fight and I cannot – if you had wanted to you could have taken my clothes from me before now. And I think that I can trust you.”
“Why? Until this afternoon we’d only spoken a couple of times. For all you know I could be a sex maniac, or something.”
“I do not think so. To me you seem nice.”
“Yes, but you don’t know… Look, Miguel, you were the same with James – I watched the way you made friends with him really quickly. I think James is okay, but I don’t know for sure… one day you’re going to trust the wrong person, and then you’ll get badly hurt.”
By now he had let go of Miguel’s penis and was looking at him seriously.
“But you are not a wrong person,” said Miguel, confidently. “So you are not going to hurt me.”
“That’s true, but… well, just be careful, okay? There are some bad people about. Anyway, let’s see what we can do with this…”
He took hold of Miguel’s penis once more and manipulated it until it was good and stiff.
“So you really don’t know why it gets like this?” he asked.
Miguel shook his head.
“Well, do you know about where babies come from?”
“Not really.”
“Okay, lie on the bed – you might as well get comfortable, because this might take a few minutes.”
So Miguel relaxed on the bed and Kenji sat beside him, still idly caressing his erection, and explained the mechanics of sex, and the nine month gestation period, and so on.
“Of course,” he finished, “you and I are too young to father children yet because our balls aren’t mature yet… well, actually I think I’m getting there… but our cocks can still stick up, which they have to in order to get into the girl. And sometimes they do it for no obvious reason – like when we were practising throwing each other earlier on it happened to me. That’s because of close contact; or your body rubbing against it as I threw you, but now and again it happens without any contact, even when you’re not thinking about sex. Yours is hard now because I’m touching it and making it feel nice, and mine is hard because I’m touching yours, I think.”
“Can I see it?”
“No. I’m older than you, so you have to show me respect, and looking at me bare might not be respectful… though maybe when we know each other a bit better… But you can see the bulge in my shorts, can’t you?”
Kenji leant back and Miguel could indeed see the bulge in his shorts.
“Is it bigger than mine?” he asked.
“Yes, but then I am a year older than you, so it’s likely to be bigger. And no, you still can’t look.”
“And… why do people have sex? I mean, I know that if they want a baby they have to do it, but people seem to talk about it a lot, even when they do not want a baby.”
“Well, I could explain, but you’d understand better if I did this.” And Kenji took hold of Miguel’s erection and started to rub it slowly up and down. Miguel very quickly decided that he liked it: it felt warm and… well, interesting.
“That is nice,” he said.
“It’ll get nicer. Now I want you to trust me; Miguel: soon you’ll start to feel a bit strange, like you need to go to the toilet, or a bit like that. Just do your best to hold it back for as long as you can, and then maybe you’ll understand why sex is so good.”
Miguel would never forget his first orgasm, which was as near perfect as Kenji could make it for him. He gasped and bucked and writhed about and clenched all his muscles, and Kenji went just slowly enough for him to be able to hold it in for quite a long time before it finally burst through. And afterwards he lay back on the bed, looking at his still erect penis and wondering how such a small part of him could make his whole body feel so amazing.
“So?” asked Kenji, letting go.
“That was… it is hard to explain. But it was… extraordinary.”
That’s a good way of describing it. But did you like it?”
“Of course, yes. It was amazing.”
“Good. Now you might feel a bit strange afterwards, so I’ll go and see if your clothes are ready and then you can get dressed.”
“Wait,” said Miguel, as Kenji started to stand up. “We are friends now, aren’t se?”
“Yes, I think so.”
“Then… I should do that for you. You have made me to have an incredible feeling; I should do it for you.”
“You just want to see what I look like, don’t you?”
“No! Well… yes, but that is not why. I want to make you feel good like as I did.”
“We need to work on your English grammar a little…”
“Do not change the subject. I want to do it for you, Kenji. Please let me.”
“Well… okay, then. But you can get dressed first, if you like.”
Miguel shook his head. “Andy likes to see me bare,” he said. “And I think you do as well, so I shall stay like this. We can dress after.”
Kenji made up his mind, nodded, removed his clothes and took Miguel’s place on the bed. He was already stiff, his penis more than an inch longer than Miguel’s and proportionately thicker, and his balls were twice as big, though as yet there was no sign of hair.
“Yours is nice,” Miguel told him. “It is big, and it looks hard… yes, it is,” he added, taking hold of it. It wasn’t as big as James’s, of course: probably James’s was almost an inch longer. But it felt really hot and hard. He started to rub it, trying to do it the same way as when Kenji had done it to him.
“Grip a little tighter and slow down a bit… don’t go down quite so far, the tip is really sensitive when the skin comes down… yes, that’s better… that’s brilliant… great, keep doing it like that…”
He kept doing it like that, and soon Kenji was starting to wriggle about the way he had done himself. Having been on the receiving end first, Miguel found it easier to judge how Kenji was feeling and how close he was getting to the moment when his body had felt as if it was exploding in slow motion, so when the moment came he was ready for it and kept hold, squeezing a little more tightly. What he wasn’t ready for was the way the tip suddenly became slick with a small amount of colourless liquid, though he managed to hold on so as not to spoil the moment for his friend.
“That was really good, Miguel… thanks.”
“Is that the stuff you told me about before?” asked Miguel, indicating the wet tip of Kenji’s now wilting penis.
“Yes, though it isn’t really proper sperm. That’s thick and white: it’ll be a while yet before I can make that. But it shows that my balls are starting to work…and it really did feel great, too. Is that the first time you’ve ever done that?”
Miguel nodded.
“Then you learn really quickly, because it was brilliant. Look, put your pants on and I’ll get dressed and go and get the rest of your clothes, okay?”
Five minutes later they were both fully dressed. Miguel’s clothes had dried out nicely, though as it was still raining he expected them to get thoroughly soaked again before he got home.
“Can we… I mean, would you like that we should do that again?” asked Miguel.
“Well… I’m not sure. Last time I started doing that with someone it went badly wrong, and I don’t want it to happen again.”
“What happened?”
“He… no, I don’t want to talk about it. But I got hurt, and I really don’t want it happening again.”
“I am your friend,” said Miguel. “I will never hurt you.”
“Yes, that’s pretty much what he said, too. But... I think you’re different, Miguel. Like I said before, you’re strange, but it’s a really nice strange, and I don’t think I’m wrong about you.”
“You are not wrong about me. I will not let you down. And… is this why you said before that I should not trust people so much, because someone hurt you like that?”
Kenji nodded. “I don’t want anyone else to have to go through what I did. And I don’t want to talk about it any more… but, okay, I think I trust you, and… have you got any brothers or sisters?”
Miguel shook his head. “There is just me,” he said.
“Then I think I will trust you. So, yes, I’d like to do that again, if you would.”
“I would. Many times.”
Kenji grinned at him. “I don’t know if we can do it too many times – after all, you’re going on holiday next weekend, aren’t you? But perhaps you can come round again before you leave. I’d like that.”
“So would I. Thank you, Kenji.”
In the event Miguel didn’t get wet on his way home because Mr Nakamura gave him a lift back in his car, saying that Miguel could come and collect his bike after school next day. So instead he was able to ride home in comfort, trying to remember exactly how he had felt at the moment when he had lost control of his body, and wondering when he would get a chance to show Andy and James what he had learned today…
Well, Miguel’s horizons are expanding all over the place: he’s developing a special friendship with James, and now he’s starting to find out what sex is all about. And Kenji clearly has a history – it might be interesting to find out about that sometime…
I’m still at gothmog@nyms.net and your thoughts and comments are as welcome as ever. Go on, exercise those typing fingers (with typing, for a change!!) and drop me a line…
Copyright 2008: all rights reserved. Please do not reprint, repost or otherwise reproduce this or any part thereof anywhere without my written permission – but if you like it, tell your friends!
David Clarke