Date: Sat, 02 Dec 2023 04:19:26 +0000 From: kleiner.gespenst Subject: Justin's Journal | Part 4 A young boy's secret diaries open a window onto his middle school passion, and documents best friends falling in love. This story features consensual sex betwixt tween boys. If this work of utter fiction violates your local laws or your moral code, close the tab. If you enjoy this story, or any of the works here on Nifty, please chip in to keep the lights on: http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html ====================== Showering after physical education - or "P.E. - is no longer mandatory in most U.S. public schools. My guess is that sometime in the late 80's to early 90's, basic hygiene fell victim to growing body shame. It's ironic, given the unabashed way teenagers came to accept texting each other nude selfies a decade or so later. Nonetheless, when it came to optional showering, my middle school's policies were like my adolescence - late to bloom. Public schools in Boise, Idaho had no patience for sweaty kids reeking up classes after P.E., and showers were mandatory. This was a mixed blessing for closeted little 7th grade queers like me. Getting naked with fifty boys was like window shopping at a candy store - if you could keep your appetite in check. Thankfully, with my hormonal thunderstorms not forecast for the near future, I hadn't yet fallen victim to the frequent random, awkward boners afflicting a good number of my classmates. Of course, in 6th grade, getting hard publicly was just comedy. When it happened in 7th or 8th grade, it was comedy at your expense. "Check it out: Stolz's gotta boner!" "You gotta hard-on for me, Tommy? Better not, faggot!" So, yeah, it happened a couple of times to me. But unlike most of the other guys, it was because I was actually aroused by the sea of penises beneath those waterfalls. I learned to keep my flesh surveys discrete - especially in high school, when I finally started sprouting pubes, and any passing breeze would fill my loins with blood. Anyway, despite those challenges, one of the great rewards of 7th grade P.E. showers was seeing who'd sprouted shrubbery over the summer. But for my best friend, Justin Smythe, puberty was a looming monster he dreaded. With it came the heterosexual pantomime he and I adopted in an intolerant region, in a homophobic era. But unlike Justin, I had all the self-awareness of a guinea pig eating its own shit. Despite my craving for cock, I couldn't possibly be gay. They were flouncy sissies, right? Meanwhile, Justin's journal entry from the beginning of the school year shows his introspection ran deep: _ _ _ _ August 21, 1988 First day of 7th Grade was OK I guess. Most classes are good but 2 blow [a list and critique follow]. It's the second year of middle school and some dudes like hazing the 6th graders now like they were getting payback for what happened to us. Sure getting pantsed or having my backpack tossed sucked but I still wish I had a time machine so I could go back to last year. We didn't know how to be cool, so it was OK to be dorky. Also most of the guys didn't care about girls or were scared of them. We could beat each other off without Playboys or talking about boobs and shit. Now about the only guys that don't need that are Billy and Tommy, and I'm starting to think they're like me. On a sleepover at Tommy's last week, we crammed into Tommy's bed and jacked each other off. Tommy was talking about blow jobs and how much he wanted one but he didn't mention a single girl. Billy offered to do it if Tommy did it to him but Tommy chickened out and Billy said he was kidding. I don't think either of them were kidding. Too bad Billy's family is getting transferred to Germany next week or I'd do it. Figuring this out sucks. Being gay sucks. My parents would fucking kill me if they found out. Good thing we have to wear jock straps to gym class cause they keep my boner from showing. It's weird how they look so hot on some guys by hiding their dicks while showing their asses. I hate it when they strip and there's a bunch of hair. Just a year ago almost everyone was a baldy like me. I don't want to grow up and I don't want ugly pubes and I don't know why. Everyone else wants to be six feet and hairy and nailing pussy. It's like I'm from Bizarro World. Anyway, note to self: stop checking out guys in P.E. because getting hard will get me killed. _ _ _ _ As Justin correctly surmised, Billy and I were just as gay as he, though it would be a while before I figured that out, and a couple of years before Billy moved back, proudly out despite the danger. Having taken up kick boxing by then meant Billy wasn't an easy target for bullies, but that's another story. Anyway, I remember that sleepover, but not the exact conversation. Our crew had been reading out loud blow job stories from the skin mags that were gathering dust and cum in Justin's fort, all summer long. Most of the guys in our circle jerks were probably imagining the hand on their dick was some girl's mouth, while I pictured Justin sucking me off. It was almost always his hand on me in the fort, anyway. Later at night, while masturbating myself to sleep, my "heterosexual" mind would be filled with the memory of young cocks appearing and disappearing in young fists that afternoon, and wishing my hand was Justin's mouth. So, I was very nervous when I brought up the idea of trading oral at the final sleepover during summer vacation. Likewise, abject cowardice got in the way of doing it when Billy said he was game. What if it ever got out that I'd sucked a boy's dick? Opportunities arose a couple of times a week, when Justin and I secretly stroked one another at each other's houses, if he didn't have Little League and I didn't have swim team. All the same, I could never muster the courage to push beyond the safety of mutual masturbation. And when I once dared to ask why we loved jerking each other off so much, Justin quickly brushed it off. "We're just horny kids, Tommy." I knew it was more than that, but I was terrified of even voicing it in my own head. So, after we pleasured each other, our conversations always drifted to the things important to most tween boys: gaming, TV, school and sports. Never girls - but always sports. Justin was still a little pissed at me for giving up baseball, and we talked about it one Saturday afternoon at my place, after his first game of the season, and my swim practice. Justin brought a change of clothes with him. Too bad I'd showered at the pool, or I might have talked him into sharing one, to "conserve water." (As it turns out, he'd had similar thoughts). When he got out of the bathroom, he was shirtless and in jeans that slid down his skinny hips, revealing a good inch or two of his tighty whities. God, he looked so sexy, I could feel the blood draining from my head and into my groin. We thought we had the place to ourselves for the day, and I didn't bother closing my bedroom door. Without pulling on a shirt, Justin flopped down on the bed next to me, toweling his still wet hair. Justin was always very sensitive, which I found incongruous with his later career in the Marines. Anyway, I explained that I was a mediocre fielder and a shitty batter. At the same time, he knew I was a fast swimmer, and he often rooted for me at my meets. Then he said something that made my heart race. "Plus, you look rad in your little Speedo." My eyes grew wide, and he blushed, with a look that said, "shit, did I really say that?" I don't know what came over me, but I replied with something like, "Rad enough to give to give you a boner?" I giggled and reached for his junk, and he giggle-squealed, and batted my hand away, while grabbing for my loins. In moments, we were "wrestling," with the sole objective of pinning each other down with fists full of blood-engorged boy hardness. Remembering those moments is easy. His warm, slender chest still echoes against mine, and I can still feel his tight grip on my magnificently hard bone. At the same time, My hand's muscle memory is indelibly filled with his throbbing solidity, raking through denim against my palm. In seconds, we were unbuttoning each other's jeans. Like countless other times, our hands found their way through the flies in each other's tighty whities, and our fingers squeezed rigid desire. We were so loud that even with my bedroom door wide open, we didn't hear my dad heading up the stairs until he was standing in the doorway saying, "Knock it off, boys." _ _ _ _ September 6, 1988 Tommy and me were totally busted today. I was at his place after my game (the Wolves beat us 5-1). So we were talking about why I was mad at him which seems stupid now. I kind of let the cat out of the bag when I said his little Speedo makes him look hot (it really is little - like you can even see some of his butt crack and damn you can see his dick clearly when it's wet). The next thing I know we were grabbing each other's boners. Then, Mr. Stolz appears out of nowhere. Tommy's house was supposed to be empty but his mom got sick and we didn't even hear them come home. I finished getting dressed (I'd cleaned up and changed there), and Mr. Stolz had us sit down at the breakfast table. I thought he'd be super pissed cause my dad sure would be (he'd have belted the "sin" out of me). But he wasn't. Just real serious. He said that little boys can play those kind of games but that we're big boys now. He said if we kept playing "grab ass" it might become a habit and we'd grow up to be homosexuals. He said a bunch of other things like "queers aren't bad people, but they're mentally ill and they can't have families" and a bunch of other stuff. The thing is I'm already gay. I've always been gay. It's not like jerking off with friends made me want dick instead of pussy. I've always liked dicks and love boys not girls. For a while I wished I was "normal" and straight. But I like being gay. I'm almost positive Tommy is gay. He'd be a lot happier if was happy with it. _ _ _ _ Justin knew me better than I knew myself. Hell, so did my mom and sister, but I wouldn't find that out for a while. That night, my ears still burned from my dad's misguided lecture. He had gone out of his way to emphasize that masturbation was a normal thing all boys do, especially when their hormones are out of control. But it's something teenagers do alone, thinking about girls. My mind replayed "wrestling" with Justin, and my 2 inches of hairless boy flesh stretched my briefs. I only gave myself a quick and very guilty squeeze, then tried to imagine one of the prettiest girls in school, naked. It had all the effect of picturing a manikin, and my erection wilted. But remembering our afternoons together, and imaging of kissing Justin made me rigid again. I grunted with guilty delight, and drily spasmed in half a minute. Over the next couple of weeks, my brain went to war with itself. I kept my eyes anywhere but on other boys while changing in the gym or at swim practice, and avoided any situation where hanging with friends might have ended up in a group grope. That latter part was easy. Older teens had taken over Tommy's fort, turning it into a party palace, and our group was growing apart, anyway. I even stopped masturbating - mostly. I mean, testosterone's less-than-tender touch had yet to land on my loins, so my accidental arousal was usually the result of seeing a cute boy on TV. I was deliberately ignoring my secret stash of stroke material (cut out photos of boys and men from magazines and catalogs). Meanwhile, my dad had casually left a Playboy on my desk the day after he'd caught Justin and me. I tried - earnestly tried - to beat off to it. But the women did absolutely nothing for me. The letters, though, sometimes did, if I replaced the "co-eds" in the stories with myself, blowing teen boys who "never thought this would happen to me." At the same time, the fact that I was spending every free afternoon with optional swim practice and strength training hadn't gone unnoticed by Justin. According to his journals, I was deliberately avoiding being alone with him, and he wasn't wrong. He called me out on it one day at school. He looked shy and hurt. "Are you avoiding me, Tommy?" Apologizing profusely, I made plans to hang out with him that afternoon, skipping a mandatory practice just to prove the point. He had to babysit his little sister, which meant playing with her, while watching the Braves play the Cardinals. Neither of us were remotely interested in either team, but back then, cable TV was dominated by Atlanta-based networks, and that meant the Insufferables were unavoidable, if you wanted to watch a game. Really, the tea party we had with Mia's stuffed animals was more interesting, until Justin and I started talking about the upcoming basketball season. Then, things went sideways. _ _ _ _ September 20, 1988 I think things are done with me and Tommy. He came over after school. We did our homework and turned on a shitty ball game. We were joking around and playing with Mia, and it was like everything was back to normal. We couldn't wait til basketball season starts and won't have the Braves shoved down our throats every day. As usual we got into it about who's better: Isaiah Thomas or Michael Jordan. I put Tommy in a headlock and told him to say that Jordan's the best player in history. He rolled me over and gave me a titty twister and said Thomas kicks Jordan's ass. So I grabbed his nuts, and he grabbed my dick. Mia told her bear that boys are too noisy and should be put in a zoo. She's 4, so she didn't even notice how we were squeezing each other, and we were laughing real hard. Of course that wasn't all that got hard. His boner felt real good and I rubbed it through his pants. We stopped laughing and just looked at each other. I started to open his pants but he stopped me. Tommy whispered that Mia was watching. Well so what? It wouldn't have been the first time we secretly jerked each other off under a blanket while baby sitting her and I said so. But he stood up and said: "I'm not a fag Justin. I can't do gay stuff with you anymore." Before I could even think of something to say, Tommy said he had to go and he hit the trail. I started crying right in front of Mia and I had to lie to her that I just got something in my eye. My best friend since I was 6 hurt me so bad today. I have to get my shit together before Dad gets home and sees me acting like a baby. _ _ _ _ When Justin repeated my words to me a few months later, I didn't remember saying them, and I still don't remember them to this day. Can shame induce amnesia? Justin was not the only person to wish for a time machine. Had I one, I'd go back and kick my own ass to Jupiter. As it stands, the penance I'll pay until my final days is to re-read every one of his journal entries about me from the following months, when I really actively avoided a boy I loved so dearly. In passages growing with sophistication from 7th grade English classes, his emotional depths were clearly vast. I'll spare you the anger he felt at my betrayal. Likewise, the heartache he felt is not my privilege to reveal. Though it's no defense of my actions, I didn't just withdraw from my friendship with Justin. I pulled back from everyone and became a weird loner. It's a good thing I never tried drugs until college. Instead, I self-medicated my self-loathing with endless swim workouts, falling asleep every night too exhausted for erotic thoughts. Mostly. Then, something happened that changed my life in every respect. A really amiable, hard-working college student rented my family's unused guest house. Michael was not only outgoing and kind, but really hot. That engineering major was so alluring I had an instant crush on the 20-year-old gymnast. Though outwardly straight, with a supposed girlfriend, the college boy was actually gay, and in a relationship with his supposed best friend from Boise State. All of that I found out over a couple of months, because Michael became my math and science tutor, for a reduction in rent. By the New Year, Michael and I'd become very close, and he was tutoring me in so much more than algebra and plate tectonics. For starters, he gave me my first romantic kiss, and taught me how big boys made love. But more importantly, he helped me man up, come to grips with my sexuality, and embrace my humanity. No, that didn't mean I came flying out of the granny flat as a rainbow warrior. Shit, it was Idaho in the 80s, and about 10 years later, Matthew Shepard would be assassinated in the state next door for hitting on a couple of guys his own age. What it mean is that I came to grips with my homosexuality, and that is was as normal as being left-handed. After all, it wasn't that long ago that southpaws were persecuted for using the "hand sinister." At the same time, Michael pushed me out of my fortress of solitude, encouraging me to reconnect with old friends, or find new ones. From our long conversations, he figured that Justin had been my social cornerstone, and urged me to rebuild that friendship. As he pointed out, whether or not Justin and I rebooted a sexual relationship was irrelevant to our friendship. Also, by the Kinsey Institute's estimates, it was 80% likely my friend was at least a wee bit bisexual, so I should be cautiously optimistic. Within a week or two, that estimate would be an understatement. _ _ _ _ February 14, 1989 It's the day before Valentine's Day, and Tommy's back! Talk about a weird and wonderful Monday. I was opening my my locker door in between 2nd and 3rd periods, and there he was looking a little nervous. It was kinda totally awkward since he froze me out months ago. He asked if we could talk after school, and I said OK where? The flagpole? And he was all no we gotta Talk Talk. He said he'd take the bus with me if I'd come to his place. It's weird cause now that he's got swim team practice all week, he never takes the bus home. When we lined up for the bus, I was totally anxious but nothing like Tommy, He was shy like kids are at dances, trying to ask someone onto the floor. And it was so cute. I've had all this anger at him for blowing me off (maybe still do) but seeing Tommy practically pissing his pants put out the fire. Sitting inches apart I could almost feel electricity crackling between us. We made stupid small talk about classes. We could have been making monkey noises for all I remember.It was just just our mouths opening and closing while the bus brought us slowly to Tommy's stop. When we got to his place no one was home and we stripped off our boots and coats and got drinks from the kitchen. The whole time Tommy was almost shaking. It's totally mean but I liked seeing like that. It's not remotely sequal to what I felt when he was blowing me off, but you know what I thought just then? Fuck him. We went up to his room and I sat on his bed and Tommy paced around. For a guy who loves to gibber jabber (like Mr. T says), he took a long time getting to the point. And that's when he told me he admitted he'd been dick and he'd been avoiding me, and it was all because of his dad walking in on us. Then he said I was the best thing to ever happen in his life. Then he started to cry. Damn it I'd been enjoying his awkwardness until I saw Tommy's face all crinkled and wet with tears and him balling apologies. He didn't make total sentences but he was mumbling stuff about his "confused feelings" and how he wanted things back the way they were. There are no time machines and you can only go forward. But I wanted my best friend back even if he didn't feel the same things I do. I hugged him til he stopped crying and I told him it all OK. He asked what I'd been up to and we joked about Valentine's Day, and he asked me how many stupid little candy hearts I'd gotten. I remember the one we gave that douche Jason in 5th grade. I'd stuck it up my butt first and he ate it and never knew. We'd both gotten a couple of cards slipped into our lockers and Tommy was real quiet for a while, rubbing his head like he had a headache. He asked me if I was taking anyone to the dance that weekend. As if. But I said I was going anyway. He said he had stuff to do and couldn't go.That's when things went real good. Tommy asked me "You ever kiss a girl?" I haven't kissed anyone in the way he meant. I asked him the same. He shook his head. He looked at me a little funny and kind of whispered "What if someone wants to kiss us? Shouldn't we practice first?" "Someone." Not a girl. What with his "confused feelings" I knew what he meant. I couldn't believe he was suggesting it. I've been wanting to kiss him for so long. It took me a second to reply and he started blushing and turned away. I took a chance and turned his head back to look him in the eye. Like a second later, we were doing it and it felt killer! I didn't know how to do anything, but Tommy sure did. He stop every so often and had me do different things with my mouth. He was also rubbing my face and my chest, so I copied what he was doing. My boner's never been so hard! Suddenly, Tommy's reached down and rubbed it through my jeans and stopped kissing me for a second. I could see him chubbed up in his jeans, and I squeezed him. I said: "For someone who's never been kissed you sure seem like an expert." He didn't ay anything. He just started kissing me again and we played with each other's boners through our jeans. Just when it was getting full contact awesome we heard his mom yelling up the stairs that she needed help bringing in groceries. Tommy said: "Fuck! She's not supposed to be home 'til 7." We went downstairs to help. Of course Mrs. Stolz had a million questions about where I'd been since school started and how things were going. I made up some things about how I'd been busy helping my parents with a project. She asked Tommy why he wasn't at swim practice. He told his mom his throat was feeling sore. She said that if he wasn't feeling well he shouldn't be inviting friends over and told me that unless I wanted to get sick I better get on my way. I went back upstairs to grab my back pack. Tommy stopped me in the hallway and whispered we had a lot more to talk about if I was OK with what we'd done. I was very OK with it! So we made plans to go skiing at Bald Mountain weekend after next. Tommy is definitely gay, and I'm going to kiss him again! If only Mrs. Stolz hadn't interrupted us! I'm so fucking hard writing this I gotta jack it so that's all for now. _ _ _ _ I don't remember anything that I said to Justin in his room, while we sat side-by-side cross-wise on his bed. I do remember how good it felt when he held me. I felt so loved by the friend I loved. That made it almost effortless to put my kissing plan in action. Justin loved to dance so much I frequently walked in on him shaking his booty in his bedroom, checking out moves he'd seen on MTV in the mirror. It was kind of incongruous for such a straight-acting kid to secretly move and groove like a teenage girl. Anyway, I knew he'd be going to the Valentine's dance, and he was so cute, it was quite possible a girl would try to mack on him. Thus, my verbal suggestion seemed almost totally plausible coming from a straight kid. ALMOST. When our lips touched, it was like they were designed to fit together. He was a quick learner, and soon enough, our tongues were wrestling, and Justin caressed my torso and thigh. My head cocked to and fro, and his did as well. I still remember his little whimpering moans, bubbling into my mouth, and I echoed with my own. If only Mom hadn't arrived, I might have had Justin naked in my bed. Still, I hoped we could warm each other up on the ski slopes. But it was a long 12 days and 12 hours before my family would pick up Justin to hit Sun Valley, and in between, there were no opportunities for us to be alone. He was in a winter basketball league and had started piano lessons, and I had a rigorous swim schedule, so we only met up at at lunch every day. If you can imagine shitty cafeteria food suddenly becoming Cordon Bleu feasts just from the conversation, you'll get an idea of how sexually charged our meals were. Usually, other friends joined us, and it was all knowing looks, and the touch of feet under the table. But after the winter dance, we had 10 minutes to ourselves, and I asked Justin about it. Of course, he'd had a blast. "So, did our practice help? Did you kiss a girl?" Justin giggled and rolled his eyes. "Gross. No." "But we put in a lot of HARD work, Justin." "Not HARD enough, Tommy. We have to get in more training." I chuckled, but also sighed. Our schedules sucked, and something had to change. At the same time, I was thrumming with excitement that Justin seemed to pick on my cues. Finally, the weekend arrived, we picked up Justin, and I was quivering all the way to Bald Mountain. Mom and Dad hit the black diamonds, while Sarah, Justin and I skied intermediate trails. The three of us stuck together for a couple of runs, which meant Justin and I had no privacy. But Sarah ran into some friends, so Justin and I split off, and I suggested we hit a trail on the edge of the resort, where there was lots of forest. We started down a great, fast slope, then we arced around onto a trail with plenty of natural moguls. That connected to the border run, sparsely populated that early in the day. After about 10 awesome minutes, Justin pointed a pole at a stand of heavy forest and yelled "Can we take a break over there?" I knew he wasn't tired because he'd been hard charging to get back up the slope. I had a good idea what was up, and gave him a thumbs up. We slowed down at the forest edge, then coasted onto a slight elevation. It was thickly forested, and we had to beware of falling into a tree well. About 20 yards in, Justin did this skater's 180 turn, which was super impressive given that he was wearing fat skis, then came to a halt. He pulled his goggles on up his helmet and gave me a very sly look, and I snowplowed, parking in between his skis. "A break, huh? When did you get so feeble, Justin?" "Yeah - about that, Tommy. I meant a break from, uh, the world." "Very poetic, dude," I replied, reading the expression on his face. It said everything his words did not. I narrowed my skis a fraction, and slid forward until we were face to face. "We haven't had any time together - just us - in a long time. And you know the afternoon at your place...? "Yeeaaaah...?" I almost whispered. "I don't know about you, but I think we need more practice." "MmmmmHmmmm..." Despite the cold, blood was pooling in my extremities. Or at least one of them. If not for the private lessons from my college-age tutor, I'd have been as scared as a doe facing a coyote. Except that Justin wasn't the predator; that had been the shame I once felt about myself. "You are so right, Justin." Kissing itself was the easy part. Our lips were magnetized, clamping together with the release of potential energy built over two short life-times. While the wind whistled through the pines, the only other sound in that forest was the furious slurping of two ravenous carnivores, feasting on passion. The hard part was caressing one another with ski poles looped around our wrists. While our hands squeezed thighs and buns, then slid all over backs and sides, our poles flailed about, whipping us like we were self-flagellating, medieval monks. It broke the mood - but not in a bad way. Our kisses turned into laughter, and then whispered scheming. Moments later, our skis and poles were haphazard upright statuary, impaling 7 feet of snowpack. Meanwhile, we were two laughing idiots, rolling in a foot or two of fresh powder. At some point, I lay atop Justin, exchanging wordless, knowing smiles, in between powerful pecks to each other's lips. Then, our mouths lingered, and our tongues burrowed. The sour flavor of the hot chocolate we'd had an hour earlier couldn't have tasted sweeter. My cock was harder than glacial ice, younger than an ice pop and holy shit! it moved with the tsunami of a tropical storm. Hard and demanding. Aching. Pounding against Justin's rod through our clothes. Even through all those layers, two hearts were beating together with undeniable insistence. Justin was quickly becoming an expert kisser, playing with my lips, and letting his tongue scoop through my mouth. We needed no conversation for what we felt. Sighs and moans fluttered between our warm, wet lips. Even so, occasional words spilled out. At the time, our hips reflexively started grinding, thrusting in surging bone-to-bone waves of tingling joy. "Oh God, so rad!" "Uhh, you're so hot!" It was a good thing our clothes water proof, because by then, we'd excavated a ragged, foot deep crater in the powdery snow. Unfortunately, they were a hell of a defense against accessing one another's treasures. First thing we got rid of were our heavy gloves. On our sides, we held each other's erections with full fists, stroking and kissing with a building fury. But I wanted the real thing in my hand, and in my mouth. I rolled Justin onto his back again, but didn't bother unzipping his shell jacket. We both wore the same style of bib pants underneath, which were hung like suspender overalls from our shoulders. There were too many layers to get him partially naked, and besides, we both had lower zippers. Spreading Justin's legs, I clambered between them. Rubbing his engorged groin a couple of times, and squeezing his cock meaningfully, I quickly unzipped his fly, as well as an inside thigh vent that ran all the way to his crotch apex. Sliding my right hand into the fly, I could feel his steaming hardness stretching his base layers. I took a minute to burrow past his tucked in long-sleeve, thermal undershirt, into his tightly binding long underpants and sweat dampened briefs. At last, I had Justin's flesh in my fingers once again, and I gently stroked every contour of a circumcised cock I'd been missing for so long. Night after night, I'd relived the memories of sliding my thumb and forefinger up and down his throbbing 2.5 inches, and here it was again, delightfully gliding between my delicate digits. At the same time, my left hand skated inside Justin's thigh vent, stroking his sinewy inner leg muscles through a mesh barrier for a moment. Then, I stretched the mesh, reaching up to pull down the waistband of my friend's base layer and snug underpants. It was clumsy work, but we were both rabid with need. Bunching two sets of underwear under Justin's scrotum with one hand, I wrestled his goods into the great outdoors with the other. "Shit! That's cold!" Justin gasped and giggled when a breeze hit his flesh. "Not for long," I murmured, then resumed gently stroking his shaft with one hand, while caressing his thigh with the other. I leaned down and studied his pee slit intently. The faint bouquet of boy musk competed with the woods' pine fragrance, and I was surprised to see his rosy head glistening. He'd started to make pre-cum, though not very much, and certainly not enough to lube his head enough for the direct stimulation I was going to give it - which ruled out my fingertips. My tongue dragged around my best friend's knob for the first time, and he gasped with surprise. But when my lips sealed around it, Justin's thigh flexed involuntarily. "Oh my God! I can't believe...UHHHH!!!!" I was sucking on his head with my lips alone, while swabbing it mercilessly with my tongue. At the same time, I continued to stroke him with a feather light touch, and the woods echoed with Justin's gasps and moans. My stroking fingers glided down to his slightly wrinkled, though still compact and hairless scrotum. While gently pulling on one nut, and then the other, I plunged my mouth to the root, burying my nose in his thermal undershirt tail. While his pre-cum had been virtually flavorless, Justin's flesh lollipop was perspiration brined from skiing. It was so delicious, I kept him engulfed, and agitated the sides with my cheeks, and the underside with my tongue, while swallowing my copious saliva. It was also astonishingly arousing, and my desperately swollen prong was weeping into my underpants. Shifting my weigh onto my knees, I pulled my left hand out of Justin's leg vent, and violently yanked open my own zipper. Fumbling around, I pulled my own junk out into open air. The air was shockingly cold, until I got to work, rubbing my 2-inch tinder stick so hard I should have started a forest fire. Sucking on Justin furiously, I bobbed up and back quickly, until his hips started rocking. Remembering my tutor's First Law of Patience, I slowed down on both of us, jerking myself slowly and lightly, while sliding Justin's cock between my lips at the same pace. I masturbated him with the gentle friction of my lips with no suction for a while, and my tongue went round and round on his underside. Moments later, I sucked on him hard and fast, and jerked myself at the same pace. His little love limb was twitching in my mouth, and his moans grew tattered. Justin's hips started grinding again, while he instinctively tried to fuck my mouth. "Oh shit...OH SHIT...Gonna...!" I pulled off his dick, and his whimpers were epic. "I was sooo close, Tommy!" I chuckled. "I know. But let's take our time." He grumbled, and my fingers tip-toed back from his balls to his rigid shaft. While I slowly stroked his shaft with the same gentle, three-fingered grip I was using on myself, I studied his glans. It looked like it was slightly inflating and deflating with his pulse, and his piss slit gulped air a couple of times. The blue striped waistband of his tighty-whities rolled half-way over Justin's contracting balls, then covered them completely. As his journal entry from the next day recounted, he was was so close to cumming that if I stroked him any faster, or with a harder grip, it would have been all over. I could read it on his face at the time, and the way his chest rose and felt like broken bellows. His ragged, steaming breath came out with strained notes of anguish. I didn't know if I could edge him again, and really, I didn't want to. I was just as eager to climax. After Justin's breathing grew regular again, I held him by the base, I sealed my lips loosely around him, and rubbed his length against my tongue. Then, I rubbed one side against one of my cheeks for a few moments, and then the opposite side against my other cheek. I knew that rubbery wet friction against his tender morsel would feel excruciatingly good. After about a minute, Justin was panting with incoherent half-words, and his hips started rocking again. It was time, and I bobbed my head back and forth quickly, sucking and swallowing quickly with each up stroke. My cheeks puffed out and collapsed so rapidly I must have looked like a tropical fish in a feeding frenzy. Well, part of that image is right. I was feeding on Justin's explosive passion, and seconds later, his hips bucked up, and he squealed. Justin's cock kicked like a tiny sledgehammer, up against the roof of my mouth, and down against my tongue. Given the compression of my suckling, it was more like violent pressing, while I pulled back and forth. I was so enthralled by his savage cries, his brutal thrusts, and especially the powerful pulsations of his dry orgasm that I stopped stroking myself, with laser focus on melting Justin into the snow. At last, his climax faded, and he collapsed back into our unintended fox hole. Heaving and spent, he absently combed his fingers through my long hair. Groaning and sighing in the warm sea of post-orgasmic bliss, it took him a moment to notice my arm furiously flying, while his dick softened in my mouth. "Lemme," he gasped, half comatose from his orgasm. Inelegantly, he twisted upward, hooking an elbow crook around my neck with one arm. With the other hand, he batted away my hand to clasped me in a firm grip. Justin's journal says I "yelled `Fuck Yeah!'" But I don't remember that at all. In fact, I remember being discrete all the time. Maybe I wasn't..? Anyway, Justin jerked me ferociously with his right hand. His left hand clamped into my skinny buttocks and forcefully pulled me forward. Pulling on my cock and my ass, he corralled me forward. Justin was staring hungrily at my cock, while he pounded it like a rough cut of meat. Tenderizing it. Tantalizing it. Tormenting it. "Lemme suck you, Tommy. Lemme suck you!" I warned him I'd started ejaculating. But according to Justin's journal, that made him even hungrier for my cock. By the time my knees were bestride his chest, and he was leaning upward, mouth open, almost drooling with rabid desire, the constant, furious friction on my cock ignited the powder keg in my balls before I could reach the landing zone. "Wait - JUSTIN I UUUUUUUHHHHH!" Inches from his face, my throbbing knob burst with a thin spray of watery goo, splattering drops across Justin's cheek, nose and jaw. I barely noticed because the first detonation of itchy white fire was overwhelming, and already, the muscles behind my balls were pulling at them again. While my brain erupted and I gasped, Justin pulled me into his mouth, in time to seal his lips around my pulsating member. Whatever meager load I had remaining dribbled across his hot, wet tongue. I'd fallen face forward, pushing him back into the snow, and burying Justin's face with my crotch. Justin was sucking on me like a straw, swallowing every tiny bit of my boy frappé. Even as I groaned through several more detonations - all dry, according to Justin - I could hear his moans of delight, which made it all this the most erotic climax I'd yet experienced! My hips rose and fell, fucking Justin's eager mouth until the stars faded from my eyes, and my orgasm died away. "Oh shit! Oh fuck!" I heaved and panted, shaking with after quakes. All the while Justin kept slurping away. He later wrote that my pubescent cum had a vaguely sweet flavor, and he wanted more. Unfortunately, I was also past the developmental stage where a boy can fire off orgasms like endless video game ammunition. Though I produced little, my climaxes were no longer vapor ware, and I told Justin that my cock was too sensitive. Disappointed, he released my semi-softening member, and I rolled onto my back to catch my breath. I turned my head, and reveled in watching Justin drag his finger across his face, then sucking the scan remnants of my tiny load like it was a delicacy. Seeing my surprised amusement, he shrugged. "It's kinda yummy." While we stowed our organs back in place, I found semen smeared around my lap. I scrubbed it away with a handful of snow, and Justin curled beside me. "You're full of surprises, Tommy Stolz." "Full of shit, for sure." I asked if he'd ever forgive me for being a dick, and he replied by planting his lips on mine. Our kiss was long and tender, with affectionate caresses. "Nothing to forgive, dude." Both of us were damp with sweat, and started shivering. Helping each other up, we climbed out of the crater, and got back on our skis. Basking in the afterglow, we slowly navigated around trees. Of course, just before we reached the trail, Justin's curiosity grew. "Where'd ya learn to do all these things, Tommy?" My mind raced. I didn't want to spoil the moment by telling Justin about Michael, and risk my best friend becoming jealous. "You didn't pay attention to all those Penthouse letters we read in the fort?" He mulled it for a moment. "Not really. I was more into watching the guys beating it." "Me too." We stopped just at the trail. It was time for the moment of truth. "Justin, you're my best friend. So I'll tell you a secret nobody knows. I...uh...don't like girls in, you know, that way. I like boys." I explained that it wasn't just normal horniness driving me toward dick, like Justin had dismissed our erotic play. He grinned like he'd won the lottery. "Duh, really, dude? I was waiting for you to figure it out. I wanted to tell you I was gay for so long, but, you know..." "How long have you known?" I almost whispered. He puffed out his cheeks and exhaled, thinking. "Maybe a couple of years. Definitely a few months after we started doing things. I just didn't want to believe it." "Me either. But it's not as if I chose to like dicks. I just do...and the boys attached to `em." "Boysss?" Tommy stretched the plural sarcastically, implying sluttishness. I sidestepped over, reached down and squeezed his groin. "One boy in particular." I gave him a quick peck on the lips, then bolted out onto the trail. "Race ya to the bottom!" I think that was the fastest either of us had skied the border trail. By then it was lunchtime, and we were both famished. Thankfully, my parents were waiting at our meetup point, where they told us Sarah was sticking with her friends for the day. Over burgers, my mom observed that Justin and I seemed in especially giggly. I have no recollection of what insider jokes we traded; only that it was one of the most fun meals I've ever had. Although I hoped my parents would peel off and hit the expert trails, they decided to "share a family day" with us." So there was no repeat visit to the woods. By the time we climbed into the minivan in the late afternoon, Justin and I were sore and exhausted, and fell asleep 10 minutes into the drive back to Boise. We even slept through a stop while my dad got a couple of pizzas. At home, we blearily wolfed down several slices each, then took turns using the shower. While waiting for Sarah to leave the bathroom, we whispered about how much better it would be to shower together, but we didn't want to be obvious around my family. Heating bills were climbing that year, so my parents kept the house chilly in the winter. So when when mom was dishing out ice cream by the TV, normally Justin and I would hang out join them in our t-shirts and underwear. But it was so frigid that night, Justin dressed in the flannel pajamas his mom always packed for sleep-overs, while I pulled on the set I only wore visiting relatives. He changed in the bathroom after showering, while I returned to my bedroom with a towel around my waist, and dumped my clothes in the hamper. I could feel Justin's eyes on me when I dropped my towel, and rummaged through my underwear drawer. It was time for the gayest pair in my arsenal of low-rise briefs: bright pink with fuchsia pin stripes. They were among three or four pairs I'd never think of wearing to school, and had reserved for report card time with Michael. With my back to Justin, I pulled those snug and slinky boy panties very slowly, sort of giving him an inverse strip-tease. "Wow," he whispered. "Those are some sexy undies, Tommy." "You really like them?" I turned and gave him a lascivious look, with my hand on my hip. "Yeah," he replied, nodding sincerely. He gazed at my loins for a moment, then looked up at me with a sly expression. "They'll look really great on the floor." "Or stuffed in your mouth." We giggled at our emerging boldness, and I finished dressing. Cramming down ice cream while watching a cable rerun of "Cheers" was no problem. It was staying awake afterward that was a challenge, and my family wasn't surprised when we stumbled off to bed earlier than usual. We rapidly took turns brushing our teeth and peeing, then returned to my room. I shut off the light, and the room was barely lit by street light down the road. But it was enough to see the radiant smile on Justin's face. "Alone at last," he sighed, wrapping his arms around me. I hugged him tightly for a moment. "Thank you," I whispered in his ear. "For what?" "For being my friend." "That's easy. You'd be the most popular kid in school if you weren't a hermit." Michael had been right. I had to rejoin society. But first, I just wanted to celebrate my friendship. My hands slid into Justin's PJs, and I squeezed his skinny rump with both hands though his snug and fluffy briefs. Our lips met tenderly, smacking with growing familiarity. We played, gently biting one another's lips and pulling on them, and then our tongues met for a gentle tussle. His hands caressed all over my back, and then dove into my PJs and underwear, squeezing my butt cheeks directly. "You have such a rad ass," he murmured between kisses. "Your's is way more awesome." I could feel his lurching hardness pressing against my own, and our kissing grew more passionate. Sliding my fingers around to the front of his pajamas, I unsnapped the waist, and let the pants fall to his ankles. Justin returned the favor, untying mine and letting them slide down my slender legs. Two young teens dressed only in pajama tops and underpants embraced in the dim light, pressing their engorged loins together, and kissed with a mounting fervor. Justin tried to slide his hand into the front of my underwear, but I pulled his fingers away, and lead him under the covers. I was going to have to pass on the hard lessons I'd learned in the Granny Flat, about patiently teasing a lover to a more explosive climax. And yet I didn't have much energy to edge him that night. I couldn't even muster the massage I knew he needed as much as me. Still, I passed on my borrowed wisdom, repeating Michael's mantra: "The journey is as important as the destination, Justin." Lying side by side under the thick duvet in full-size bed, we kissed and caressed. At first mirroring me, Justin traced and squeezed all over my thighs, sides and back, corresponding to the way I touched him. At some point, he confidently broke from my script, and he traced the outlines of my face, and combed fingers through my long hair. At the same time, I was savoring his firm and rubbery bottom with one hand, while caressing his slender torso with another. Gently tweaking his nipples into hard little cones, I had him moaning in my mouth. I feathered one hand from his firm bottom, around to the front of his briefs. Instinctively, he cocked up a knee to give me full access, and I delicately dragged the flat of my hand from the bottom of his ass, up the length of his rigidly steaming tent pole and back. I loved the way his cotton-bound bone rubbed into my palm's lifeline, and how his small scrotum was clearly defined by the snug material. As I gently rubbed tingly sensations out of him like a genie from a lamp, Justin copied me once more. One set of fingers played with my nipples, while his palm slowly rubbed up and down my quaking length. Sighing while our tongues played, my cocked-up knee gave him a full access pass to my ass and balls. Soon enough our breath grew shivery, and pulled our mouths apart. Gazing with half-lidded eyes at one another, we smiled with parted lips. I gently clasped his rock hard pestle with a thumb and forefinger on either side, and slowly stroked him with delicate touch. Justin followed suit, but told me he didn't know how much longer he could hold out. I rolled Justin on his back, then lay on top of him. Spreading his legs widely, then hooking his feet into the small of my back, he slowly mashed his cock upward into mine. I ground into him with the same rhythm, while laying little kisses from his pert nose, across his cheek, to his earlobe. After I gave the lobe a little nibble, I slid my tongue into his ear canal. It was a mistake, because he loudly squealed and giggled. "Shhhh." I stopped humping him, and kissed down Justin's throat to his shoulders. As I got up on my knees, and unbuttoned his pajama top, Justin released me from his foot lock. I kissed down to his nipple, and then gave it a nibble. When I suckled on it, I heard a muffled cry silenced by the pillow Justin had wisely pulled over his face. I sucked another cry out of him with his other nipple, then continued kissing southward, under the bedcovers. My lips left a trail all the way to his navel, then onward. I could barely see his bone-white briefs, much less the thrashing prong they caged. All the same, I could feel his turgid desire with my lips, and rubbed it against my cheek like a cat. For a nanosecond, I considered teasing the fuck out of him with nothing but kisses and licks on the outside of his underpants. But by then, I was ravenous for the real thing. I was crouching with knees pressed against my chest, and my ass against my heels, when I pulled Justin's waistband down, and snapped it beneath his sack. While caressing his tummy with one hand, and his thigh with the other, I found his nuts with my lips, and kissed every centimeter of his smooth and tightly compacted scrotum, still attached to the base of his cock. Then, I spent a minute delicately sucking on each of his tiny grapes in their hairless wrapper. Drilling my tongue tip against where the very bottom of his bag was secured by his tight elastic waistband, I dragged it slowly up the center. I could vaguely feel the little seem of skin that divided his ball sack into two hemispheres, and followed that trail until I reached his frenulum. Flicking my tongue tip against that tender bridge, I could feel Justin's leg muscles involuntarily flex, and his abdomen quivered. After I licked the whole underside of his glans like a lollipop, I held his vibrating limb at the base in my lower palm, with my pinky and ring finger, so I could rub lazy circles on the underside of saliva-drenched head with my thumb for a few moments. Justin's pillow resonated with another moan, and his nascent abs flexed. I caressed up to a nipple and gave it another tweak, then down to his slender, barren pubis, rubbing his soft, cherubic plain clockwise, like my thumb was palpitating his penis. I changed my grip on his cock, holding him between thumb and two fingers. Giving his his piss slit several delicate kisses, I stroked him slowly, but firmly for a while, then very quickly, while slapping his glans with my tongue. When his hips started reflexively pumping, I slowed down again and loosened my grip to a feathery touch, delighting in the distant melody of frustrated whimpers. While kissing and licking Justin's tormented little crown, I alternated my strokes for several minutes, always relishing the way his body started to convulse, then melt with disappointment. According to his journal, I brought him to the brink almost every time. So I was guessing his tells correctly. Justin's hand's scooped into my hair, and the way he caressed my head made me sigh. The vibrating air must have done something, because his hips reflexively thrust. So I held him by the base, pulling his skin tightly downward, and surrounded his pulsating limb with my slightly open mouth. Exhaling sudden blasts of air, then then violently refilling my lungs, I hyperventilated for a few moments, creating a steamy wind tunnel around Justin's cock. As he later told me (and wrote in his journal), it was an almost excruciating tickling that had him howling. By then, my hair was wadded in his fists, and he was unintentionally pulling on it. But I liked it! The pain wasn't intense, but it was spicy, and a good feedback loop on how much Justin was captivated by mouth. Sealing my mouth behind his knob's ridge, I tasted a vague sweetness. I circled his glans several times with my tongue, then masturbating his head with my lips. At the same time, my caressing finger crept from his pubis to his cock. Making an "O" with my thumb and index finger, I stroked his short, surging shaft. My other hand alternately stroked his inner thigh, and fondled his tender balls. Justin's entire body rocked with spasms, and his moans were growing more anguished. It was so damned arousing, my cock almost shattered. Pulling my hand off of Justin's thigh, I yanked down the front my very tight little briefs. The waistband bit into my taint tantalizingly, and I stroked myself with the same rhythm with which I rubbed Justin's stem. At the same time, my undulating lips opened and closed on Justin's tender crown, liquidly pulling on it like a sea anemone devouring a shrimp. Justin's muffled cries resonated through the bed, and his hips pumped, stabbing his cock into my mouth, then pulling back to my lips, fucking my ever-hungry mouth. Though he was helpless to my mouth's magical wet friction, his body couldn't take any more teasing. I was making him writhe and pump, and that knowledge alone was pushing me toward the brink. Sucking in my cheeks and tongue, I bobbed up and down very quickly, knowing we were both so close. He'd really earned an intense boygasm, so I left my own cock to throb with need, and palmed his tiny nutsack. At the same time, I slid my middle finger under his waistband and rubbed from his taint, up into his valley and back. I wasn't sure Justin was ready for penetration, so I merely tickled his hole for a couple of seconds, then caressed down to the base of his nuts, then back to his anus. Justin's savage responses to my my simultaneous sucking, stroking and caressing were building volcanically. His hips were rising off the mattress and plummeting down, violently fucking my mouth, while I sucked him ever harder. Suddenly remembering a trick I'd learned from my tutor Michael, I released his nuts and my finger exited Justin's ass, then pulled his waistband deeply into the meat between his ass and balls. As we'd discover later with rubber bands, tied off bandanas, and then, eventually, adjustable cock rings, make-shift tourniquets were not only prostate pleasers, but also restricted the flow of semen, making ejaculation painfully explosive. But Justin's first emission was months away, and just then, he was was about to detonate drily in my mouth. Justin gasped, and then his high pitched squeal was thankfully muffled. His 2.5 inches of boy pole kicked in my mouth, and I slid my stroking fingers from his base to his taint, to add pressure to the elastic torment on his prostate. He pulsed and moaned again and again, practically ripping my scalp off with his fists, while he plowed my eagerly sucking mouth. At last, his thrusts slowed and stopped, and his cock pulsations withered away. I let him linger in my mouth a little more. It didn't seem to be softening, and I loved the way it nestled on my tongue. But I was thrumming with need. Quickly repositioning myself, I slid my legs under Justin's thighs, sitting crotch-to-crotch. The bedding draped down from my head like a circus tent, and there was enough space to see Justin yanking the pillow off his face to gulp air. We could just make enough eye contact, and he was floating on a sea of bliss. It was time to get mine. Holding our cocks sandwiched together in one fist, I pounded us furiously, while whispering to Justin that I was going to make him cum again. "Your dick's so hard! It feels so good! I love jerking it and fucking it!" His eyes clenched shut, and he pulled the pillow back over his face. In moments, he was grunting, and his hips started rocking again. I couldn't cup both of our balls together, so I focused on his, savoring their minuscule weight in my palm. His hardness was a half-inch longer than mine, and it felt like warm, rubber-coated steel rubbing against my slightly weeping cock. It was utterly enthralling, and I felt tissues in my anus pulling my balls in. While my scrotum quickly contracted, my cock slightly inflated. I grit my teeth and sealed my lips to choke off a shrill cry that still piped through my nose when my cock burst with desperate urgency. My waistband was biting into my seminal canal, aggravating the pressure. Behind my clenched eyelids, stars burst, and my tummy and thighs radiated with explosive ecstasy. I felt droplets of my watery spooge raining down on our groins and my fingers. A second lightning bolt flared out of my tip with a smaller squirt. Pounding and pounding, I milked out a little more drool, and then my cock vomited drily. At last, my climax faded. But Justin's was still humping into me. Abandoning my softening member, while clamping harder onto his, I met his furious up pumps with barbaric down strokes on his boy shaft. At the same time, I scooped the meager goo coating the outside of my stroking hand, and used it as a lube for my other thumb and forefinger. Rubbing the top of his tender glans and his frenulum, I pulled what sounded like a strangled shriek out of Justin, and his hips rammed upward with feral intent. He rose at least a foot off the mattress, and when he slammed down, the room echoed like a bass drum, with a note bedsprings. I pulled my fingers off his glans, and quickly wrapped that arm under his buttocks to hold him up and lessen the impact from his next thrust. At the same time, I was able lick his knob, while he fucked my hand. With every pulsation, he gasped and moaned in a very high-pitched register. At last, his hips slowed and stopped. At the same time, the cadenced spasms in my fingertips faded away. Justin pulled the pillow off his face, and gasped for breath. While he trembled with after shocks, I scooped up what little boy juice I could find on our loins and tummies, and swallowed my sweet load. There was nothing to do about the dribbles of cum claimed by our briefs, so I secured them damply back in place. Climbing back up beside Justin, I lay on my side and studied his euphoric face, and he sighed. Turning on his side to face me, he lazily smiled and quietly whispered. "Fuck, Tommy...That was so intense!" "Yeah, you're one sexy beast, dude." "No you are! And the shit you do..." He paused for a moment. "Are you sure you learned all this stuff from Penthouse?" His tone betrayed his skepticism. "Come here, Justin," I said, pulling him over for a long and tender kiss. Rolling onto my back, I pulled him in under one arm, so he rested his head on my chest. Combing my fingers through his short blond hair, I admitted that I'd had some experiences with another guy, and I felt his body stiffen. "But he's not a kid from school. He's not even a kid. He's kind of like a big brother. He's in college." After swearing him to secrecy, I explained how Michael, who rented our granny flat, had a reward system for my successes with homework. It took a while, but I explained that it was almost always torturous teasing, unless my report card showed A's and B's in my two hardest subjects: math and science. "So really, about once a month, he gives me another kind of lesson. And sometimes, he gives me porn!" "Porn? Who cares about tits?" "Not Playboy, idiot. Gay porn." "Holy shit!" He was as surprised to learn about Twink mags as I'd been, and I promised to show him the next day. In the meantime, I just held him as we narrowed the gap toward sleep. But first, I gently asked if the things I did with Michael made him jealous. "A little. But if he's like a big brother...maybe that's like Sammy jerking off Theo," he replied, referring to Sammy's older sibling. "I gotta tell you Tommy. I really missed you. I...have feelings for you." "Me, too, Justin. I love you dude." Oh my God. The words left my mouth. "I love you, too, Tommy. But, like LOVE love." "I LOVE love you, too." Turning his head upward, his smile was beatific. Our lips lingered together, sharing the rich moment, and sealing ourselves to one another. And then, we drifted off to sleep. I woke up the next day with Justin spooned around me. I desperately needed to pee, and adjusted my morning wood. With my pajama top hanging over my briefs like my t-shirt usually did, I quietly left for the bathroom. I could hear my parents clattering about in the kitchen. Sarah stopped me in the hallway, dressed in her volleyball sweats. Her team often had games on Sundays. She arched an eyebrow in amusement. "Dude, you guys need to keep it down. You're worse than Mom and Dad on Date Night." I could feel blood rushing to my face, and she laughed at my obvious alarm. "Did you - did they..?" Then my brain flashed on an image of our parents having sex, and I recoiled with disgust. "`Date Night?' Gross - just gross." "Relax, dummy. They were still watching TV when you guys finished breaking the furniture...Also, yeah, they have sex on Thursdays. Don't complain about your bedtime, dude. It's pretty harsh sharing a wall with them." Obviously, she'd keep our secret, but Justin and I would have to be a whole lot more discrete in the future. And I would definitely never again complain about my 9 pm bed time. I remember that weekend vividly, because I've replayed it in my mind and hand, for years. Reading through Justin's long journal entry from the next day, his account varied from mine only with some minor details, and his analysis about the mysterious Michael. He pondered his own jealousy, as well as whether I were being molested by a creepy weirdo. In the end, Justin figured that as long as Michael was teaching me things I could share with him, it was no more meaningful than our circle jerks in the fort. His conclusion for this was the fact that: "Tommy and I are in love!!!" === === === === === === To be continued...