Date: Tue, 9 Mar 2010 11:59:49 -0800 (PST) From: erik ritler Subject: Mike and Joey Writing is an entertaining distraction for me, and I often hope that the stories I post on Nifty are equally as entertaining to the readers. Below is a tale of young friends. For those who are interested in such things, I will say that the entire story is fantasy with the exception of Patrick's behavior after gym class. This actually happened, and the character and event are stolen from real-life. I sometimes wonder whatever became of the real-world Patrick, whose brash behavior has remained fresh in my memory even years later. Also, for those who enjoy the story, I will point out that the character of Mike is from my science fiction series 'Space Ship Boys', which you will find in the science fiction section on Nifty. The story below stands alone and is not sci-fi, but if you enjoy it you might want to check out Mike's other adventures there. I always welcome comments, criticism, suggestions and whatever else you might want to email about (the current weather in Maine, perhaps?) You can reach me at erikritler@yahoo.com. In the meantime, enjoy this latest tale. Mike and Joey Mike Albers was a twelve-year old with a secret, a secret that had preoccupied him completely since winding its way into his life one month prior. His secret was that he was broken, or so he'd come to conclude. The state of being broken was simple enough, but the solution, it seemed, was far less straightforward. The problem was, in Mike's mind, that the part of him that was broken was that one boy part that you never spoke about; the one part you never admitted wasn't functioning properly. If it were a kidney, he'd have gone to his parents or the class nurse. The problem was with his penis, a part he had trouble naming even in the confines of his own head, and so Mike wasn't apt to seek help. If someone were told how much time and energy the boy had put into thinking about this, how many hours he'd lain awake at night fretting over the subject, they might conclude that he was subject to some tremendous penile defect. The fact of the matter was that for all intents and purposes, Mike Albers was an average, healthy preteen - his boy parts included. In fact, having skipped two grades and having never suffered much worse than a minor cold, Mike rated statistically higher than most of his peers in pretty much every category, both mental and physical. And yet, the tawny youth had recently become obsessed with the idea that he was defective 'down there'. In response, he'd taken to biking in endless loops around his neighborhood for hours each afternoon. Today it was drizzling and grey, and he was losing sensation in both his butt and right foot, but he couldn't help circling and obsessing, pushing hard up the steep hills and racing down the other sides, the crisp March wind buffeting him and seeping into his windbreaker. He found the sounds the bike chains made as the wheels circled helped him clear his head. And so, as he began his third hour of riding, he decided to start again at the very beginning. The problem began, as many problems throughout human history have, with a boner. Actually, four boners. It had been the end of a long gym class, the one where they make you run a mile, which was also the one where they don't excuse anyone from running even if it's unseasonably wet outside, and even if the "track" the school district is too cheap to pave becomes a giant mud bog. Having completed the run, the class had ambled into the locker room to begin the ritual of group showering, something Mike had never been entirely comfortable with. Being two (and in some cases three or four) years younger than his classmates, he was a little sensitive to his physical immaturity, even if he made up for it in brains. He was always a bit smaller and thinner than his peers, many who were well into puberty. He knew he would catch up, but that didn't help much with the embarrassment of being nude amongst more developed boys. Not that he minded the showers this particular day. A pasty, watery grit had worked its way between his legs during the run, and he was freezing. All he wanted to do was take a hot shower, even if it was with thirty other guys. The boys in the shower were quiet, everyone being tired and quite filthy. At least, it was slightly silent before a booming voice echoed throughout the tiled chamber. "HEY BOYOS!" a boisterous voice thundered. Mike jumped, but he didn't have to turn around to know it was resident class-clown Patrick Retsen. Patrick was a lot like Mike, actually, in the respect that he scored off the charts intellectually. They sparred for top grades in every subject. Patrick was exactly the opposite of Mike in the respect that he was completely uncontrollable. He was known for entering a classroom and harshly scraping his fingernails along the blackboard. He'd also developed a system of weekly code words that would temporarily make a normal word serve as a synonym for something dirty. Mrs. Bates had absolutely no idea why Edgar Alan Poe's 'The Raven' was quite so hilarious, but then she had no way of knowing that currently 'nevermore!' actually translated to 'ejaculate!' for her class that particular day. It wasn't brilliant humor, but it was popular amongst the young teenagers. Patrick's latest bout of manic behavior was that he'd entered the shower completely nude (which was not unusual) and covered head-to-toe in mud (which was relatively unusual). It was more mud than he'd naturally accumulated during the run, to be sure, in some places it looked like it was smeared on a half inch thick. Paired with his longish blond hair, which was now matted with mud, the filthiness gave him a tribal look. Like he was a cannibal out of some wacky pulp adventure novel. This was reinforced when he loudly proclaimed himself the "supreme monkey king of the showers" and began dancing around the room in what was apparently an imitation of how monkeys dance. This would have been bizarre had any of the other boys done it, but for Patrick it was par for the course. Patrick's antics were greeted as they usually were, by smiles, jeers and cheers. Even Mike had to laugh - the guy sure had personality. It was during his monkey dance, as all attention was focused on Patrick, that he had a biological response. He started to get hard, which wasn't all that uncommon in a room packed with nude twelve-to-fourteen year-olds. This was usually met with a blush and quick retreat by the owner of the erection, but seeing as how Patrick was quite insane, he neither blushed nor retreated, and instead opted to draw further attention to his predicament. Standing in the center of the shower room, he bellowed exuberantly, "Naked Monkey King says, naked monkeys swing!" And with that, dancing and singing some monkey king theme song he was composing on the fly, Patrick had pressed his hand into his pubes, wagging his penis up and down so that it swung in rhythm to his dancing. Patrick often performed in the showers. "Yo!" he bellowed in between verses of his song, sliding along the wet slippery tile floor and plowing into his "posse", the group of three he spent most waking hours with, Vince, Travis and Tim. He threw his arms over Vince and Tim, who were noticeably uncomfortable with the physical contact, but they didn't say anything. Patrick was a completely dominant personality, and there were endless perks to being in his group, so they mostly put up with his craziness. "C'mon guys," Patrick said, "naked Monkey King says, naked monkeys swing." He was still swaying to the rhythms of his makeshift melody, and started to swing his hips a little wider, smacking into Vince and Tim's naked bodies on each side. They laughed as they began swinging from side to side with Patrick, their junk swinging in rhythm to Patrick's song. This resulted in all four of them developing erections, and the group was subjected to one of the odder scenes they would share as classmates - four boys swinging their bones to a tune in the showers, mud running off Patrick's body in thick brown streams. Ultimately the monkey king song evolved into a rendition of the theme from "Gilligan's Island", which the entire group took up with gusto, and after that things returned to normal. The four tumescent youths finished showering and made their way back to the changing room, where they stuffed themselves into their shorts and went on with their school day. Although many of the boys would remember the day four of their peers got hard together goofing off and singing in front of the entire gym class even years later, it was just another bout of hijinks on a long list of hijinks associated with Patrick Retsen, and most put it out of their minds as soon as something else came along to entertain their twitchy adolescent minds. But for Mike, the incident proved, at least in his mind, that his dick was broken. That afternoon had given Mike an opportunity to check out the erect assets of four classmates. These were the first 'real life' erections Mike had ever seen, and they'd confirmed something that Mike had feared about erections - they were supposed to be straight. And all four had been, sticking prominently from adolescent crotches, four to six inches of solid all-American boner, each as straight and proud as a wooden ruler (or a plastic ruler, for that matter). Mike's, however, was not so straight. He'd been getting erections for about a year, and ever since then he'd been concerned that he was, well, quite curved. His dick didn't point straight out of his crotch like dicks were supposed to, his extended at an upward forty-five degree angle, curving about halfway up the shaft so that the tip pointed almost directly at the ceiling. This had bothered him a little at first, but only as much as anything else about his changing body bothered him. He assumed the weird curviness of his dick was a growing pain or something. It would eventually straighten out, he figured. Except it hadn't. And then he saw his first porn, and that made things worse. His parents were pretty good with the net filters, but this was Northern California, after all, and Mike was a genius. Ok, so you didn't have to be that smart to access smut online. Having recently turned twelve, Mike decided to undergo a scientific experiment and observe some other erections in order to determine the normalcy of his own. So he'd accessed some online porn, and the five erections he'd seen had all been straight (and really big). He hadn't been worried about size, oddly enough, he knew he was still growing and that penis size varied. It was the curving that bothered him. He was afraid that his dick had somehow become broken, and he tried to figure out how that could have happened. Maybe how he stuffed it in his briefs caused it, or maybe it was a genetic disease of some sort. Whatever the cause, he'd set about trying to fix it. The most rational solution, it seemed, had been to 'train' his dick not to curve. So, every night for three months he developed an erection and then forced it straight for twenty-minute increments. That had proven a little difficult at first, but then he'd come up with the idea of holding it firmly against a long piece of wood from an old block set. It was a little medieval, to be sure, and it hurt, but Mike felt it necessary, at least until it delivered no results, at which point he gave up in annoyance and frustration. And that was about the time that the cocky Patrick had shown off his annoyingly straight cock in the shower, which had confirmed for Mike that his penis was broken and sent him into an obsession about it. He was quite angry about his deformity, and embarrassed, in the way that pre-teens get. Of course, that wouldn't solve the problem, and so he considered more drastic solutions. Like cutting it off and reattaching it. Mostly he just seethed and hated his body and tried not to get erections, because any time he did he would become flush with negative emotions - annoyance, frustration, embarrassment. And when he inevitably did go erect, he'd taken to forcing it to go away. This made him sad, he'd enjoyed being nude and erect, even if only alone in his own bathroom, before he'd discovered his deficiencies. But there was a new reality now, boners were verboten. No nudity, no erections, just self-loathing and embarrassment and endless biking and frustration. If it seems odd that this healthy, smart, active twelve-year old would obsess about something so insignificant, well, that's how twelve-year olds are. If this seems humorous, it is, but it should be noted that a fair number of teenagers end their lives for far less, and Mike's obsession, although silly, was not entirely healthy. Fortunately for Mike, about the time his obsession started to become self- destructive, his life took a different course, which ironically started with Mike being too obsessed with his problem to notice that he was literally off course. As evening set in, he'd looped back towards his house, knowing he would soon be so cold and wet that biking would not be distracting or fun anymore. The days were growing longer, but it was still getting dark early. Mike set about pedaling hard and pushing his bike to its maximum speed, trying to work off every possible bit of angst before he ended the ride. The familiar houses of his neighbors passed him by in blurs of yellow and tan and white. The boy was thinking about approximately fourteen different things as he rounded the last turn towards home - his personal problems, the roses that were starting to bloom in Mrs. Cotesworth-Haye's yard, anchovy pizza, his math homework, how Mrs. Cotesworth-Haye had a ridiculous sounding name, the problems in the Middle East, and so on. We must mention that he was not thinking about opossums, which was unfortunate for several reasons. For one, it is an amusing distraction to consider the bad hand evolution dealt opossums, their best defense tactic being to make themselves slobber and appear so sick that no predator would want to eat them. Secondly, if he were thinking about opossums he may have noted a millisecond earlier that one was running directly in his path, which may have prevented what happened next. As it were, he noticed the grey streak in the dim March twilight a little too late, and was quite startled when his brain registered that he was wheeling full-speed towards one of the creatures, who was scrambling across the street in the animal's odd ambling manner. Mike quickly calculated that he could not outrun the creature, and that if he ran over it he would lose control of the bicycle and crash. So he slammed on the brakes and veered to his right, which fortunately prevented him from hitting the animal, but did not stop him from losing control of the bike. He would not remember what happened later, and even at the time it was a blur. He missed the opossum but hit a patch of wet gravel, which caused the wheels to lose traction and slip on the damp road. Mike panicked, his left hand clamping down hard on the brakes while his right hand smacked into the gear shift, throwing the lever between settings and causing the chains to instantly lock up in a jumble. He also threw his body to his left as soon as he felt the bike tipping, which kept him upright slightly longer, but only until the two wheels slammed perpendicular into the concrete curb, stopping the bike in an instant and sending the boy flying. It's an odd sensation - suddenly being airborne - and Mike was able to reflect on this for the tiniest fraction of a second before slamming into the hard ground of his neighbor's yard. He instantly lost feeling in his left shoulder, which took the brunt of the impact, and felt a sickening thunk against his helmet, which caused him to see stars and want to vomit. And then suddenly the ground was hurting his right knee, and then his left side again, and Mike realized he was rolling uncontrollably, his inertia slowing in a brief but painful battle with the laws of physics. The boy came to a full stop midway up the yard, dazed and slightly confused about what had just happened. Somehow he was no longer on his bike, which didn't seem right. Somehow he was sitting in wet grass. And the world was spinning. Mike took a moment to collect himself, checking to make sure that each limb was still attached. They were, although not in peak condition. Nothing felt broken, but everything hurt. After a few seconds he tried standing up, which didn't go so well at first. On the third attempt he managed not to collapse back into the grass. His bike lay in the street about twenty feet away. He was both annoyed and hurting, but like a typical teen he was also a little proud about the crash. At least he was proud until he tried putting weight on his right ankle, which screamed in pain and made him see stars again. His bike had fared the crash a little less well. The chains were a complete mess, which may have mattered if the wheels hadn't been all bent and weird, preventing the front one from turning. He was now less thrilled by the coolness of the crash - he'd really liked his bike - and suddenly he was fighting back tears, partially from the pain and partially from the loss of a favorite boyhood toy. He took a deep breath and decided to leave the bike. He set off in the direction of his house, which was about eighteen blocks away. It took ten yards before he realized that walking home would be too painful on foot. Instead he turned into a driveway three houses from the crash site. It was his best friend Joey Shuler's house, and it was quite a welcome sight in his condition. Mike rang the bell, figuring he could ask Mrs. Shuler for a ride home, or at the very least, maybe she would let Joey walk home with him. It only took a moment for someone to open the door, and Mike was greeted by the smiling face of Julie Shuler, Joey's mother. At least, she was smiling at first, before a completely horrified expression crossed her face. Mike was confused by this, usually the Shulers were hospitable, and the motherly housewife normally treated Mike more or less the same as one of her four sons. Mike briefly considered that he had broken some protocol in showing up unannounced. Maybe he should have just walked home. "Hi Mrs. Shuler," he managed to meekly peep. "Mike, oh my god! Oh my god, what happened?" Mrs. Shuler asked in a frantic tone. The boy shrugged his shoulders. "Bike crash." It took a moment to realize that his friend's mother was worried about him, not angry. Mrs. Shuler dropped to her knees and pulled Mike into the doorway to further inspect him. She first felt his arms and legs, presumably to check for broken bones. Mike winced in pain as she felt his left arm. Upon determining that the youth wasn't dying on their doorstep, Mrs. Shuler stood and took Mike's hand. "Ok, the first thing is we need to get you cleaned up." They walked passed the carpeted stairway to the second floor. "JOEY!" Mrs. Shuler bellowed, calling for her youngest son. She led Mike into the downstairs bathroom. He could hear someone bounding down the staircase behind them, presumably Joey. This was immediately verified when the boy answered his mother in the surly tone teens often use with their parents. "Jeez mom, I'm doing my homework like you said...FUCK!" Joey ended his sentence in a loud profanity. "Joey!" his mother snapped back. Swearing was strictly prohibited in the house, and under normal circumstances that behavior would be punishable. This time he got off light due to the circumstances. "Go get my phone," Mrs. Shuler said in a much calmer manner. Joey bounded off in compliance, as Mike looked in the large bathroom mirror and realized what had caused his friend's profanity. He was an utter mess, the right side of his face was covered in blood, which ran scarlet from a gash just above his hairline. His arms were scrapped to hell, small pieces of shrubbery stuck into his skin. Both his shirt and jeans were shredded, the biggest damage being to his right side. The fabric of the blue jeans was ripped in a long laceration that almost severed the entire leg of the pants, and here too Mike was bleeding. He hadn't felt it during the crash, but the gears of the bike had cut deep into his calf when he was thrown off the bike. "Uh, sorry," the boy mumbled, realizing that he was dripping dirty water on the clean tile of the bathroom floor. "Whoa," a deep voice stated from behind. Mike looked in the mirror to see the reflection of Joey's sixteen year-old brother Jack looking into the bathroom through the doorway. A pang of embarrassment shot through the boy. Jack was older and cool, and Mike felt very lame to be observed in his condition. The rest of the evening was something of a blur. Mrs. Shuler immediately called Mike's mother, who she located at her office. Mrs. Shuler simultaneously attempted a more thorough inspection of the boy, removing his helmet and t- shirt, talking into her headset the entire time to describe the boy's injuries to Mrs. Albers. Mrs. Shuler maintained a calm and composed tone, which, although intended for Mike's mom, was also very comforting to the injured boy. Mike had a feeling that the other side of the conversation was less composed. After rinsing Mike off in the shower, removing the grass and mud and gunk, it was agreed that the gash in the boy's scalp and leg warranted a visit to urgent care. This began a whirlwind evening that exhausted the injured youth - the packing of him into the family car, a drive to the hospital that had too many bumps, a boring waiting room that smelled sterile and horrible, being inspected by a doctor whose jokes were less than amusing ("So who won, you or the tree?" Ugh.), his mother arriving and bringing a frantic energy into the room, getting stitches in his leg but not his head, being told he had to stay awake for ten hours with adult supervision, a drive home, and then a completely dull night of board games with his parents where he was not allowed to sleep. As soon as he was allowed, around eight the next morning, Mike slipped into unconsciousness for the first time in twenty-four hours. His mother woke him up once around five pm to check on the boy, and Mike had greedily gulped a large container of Gatorade. He moved from the living room couch to his bed and immediately fell asleep again, waking the next morning bruised and sore as hell, but as is the way with teenage boys, otherwise unscathed and ready to face the world. Mike spent the next week sore, but there were some perks. For one, Joey was allowed to spend two nights the weekend after the crash, which was unusual during the school year. And Mike was treated as something of a war veteran when he returned to school, earning even the admiration of Patrick Retsen. Everyone demanded a viewing of the deep blue and yellow bruising that covered Mike's torso, and although a little shy about it, the boy would lift his shirt up upon request, which was usually met with gasps and accolades. A week after the crash a brand new bike had shown up in the Albers garage, one that was considerably cooler and more expensive than the wrecked model (which Mike would keep for another three years despite its uselessness, demanding it never be junked). He had to swear many, many times that he would be more careful in the future, and was told the new bike was partially a reward for wearing his helmet, which the doctor had said prevented the accident from being substantially worse. But the best part came to Mike's attention a week and half after the crash, on a sunny Wednesday afternoon. Joey had gone home after school, then shortly thereafter shown up on Mike's doorstep, noticeably excited about something. "Hey Mik-EE, Mikey, Mikey, Mikey" the youth had jabbered, as was his custom. Usually this would be accompanied by a firm punch to the shoulder, but Joey had been courteous enough to stop a few inches short of physical contact with his bruised friend. Joey was considerably more lighthearted than Mike. The boys shared similar European features - the same long, straight noses and slender frames. Joey was a little darker than Mike, owing largely to his tendency to run around shirtless whenever the sun was shining. The two slender youths could be mistaken for brothers and occasionally had been. However, their difference in demeanor, Joey always playful and Mike always thoughtful, made Joey seem either more youthful or a little stupider than Mike, something Mike tried not to think about since comparing your friend to a dumb puppy dog didn't seem overly nice. Joey jumped around the Albers' living room, which really didn't help with the puppy allusion in Mike's head. He laughed at his friend's exuberance, which was running high even for Joey. "Guess what?" Joey asked, still fidgeting. "I don't know, what?" he responded, pretty sure that wasn't going to work. Mike hated this game, and although he knew Joey would always demand it go a couple of rounds, he always tried to cut it short. "Aww, c'mon, you have to guess," Joey whined. Mike chuckled, which was still slightly painful in his ribs. His response was a typical answer for the youth, " I don't know - the sun has finally decided to implode and the Air Force has given you command of the San Francisco fleet?" It was a somewhat serious answer given the state of the world, but then again not really. Joey rolled his eyes at Mike. "You're such a fucking dorkwad," he retorted. Swearing was prohibited in the Shuler household, which resulted in a case of potty-mouth that ran rampant amongst the Shuler boys whenever they weren't at home. "Anyway, you know how we always go up to the beach house for spring break?" Mike did know. The Shulers had a private beach house near Half Moon Bay, and it was a mandatory trip for the Shuler kids every year. Unfortunately, company was strictly prohibited, so Joey spent every spring break at the beach and Mike spent every spring break bored at home. "Yeah," Mike answered. He was hoping the trip was cancelled, which would give him some company during the two week vacation. Joey put on an impossibly wide grin. "Well, this year you're coming with us!" he giggled. It took a moment for Joey's statement to register. "What?" Mike asked, confused by the revelation. Joey started hopping up and down in earnest. "Yeah, I know. Like I guess that night you were in the hospital and all," Joey crossed his eyes and twirled his forefingers around each ear to signify Mike's condition that night, "well, I guess my mom was talking to your mom, and because Jared and Jon are off at college and it'll just be the four of us, they wanted you to come." Joey's two oldest brothers were away at school, leaving only Joey and Jack still at home. That did free up a lot of space in the three bedroom vacation home, and Mike had indeed been invited. What neither youth knew was that on the night of the accident Mike's mother had confided in the Shulers that Mike had been a little off lately, distant and weirder than normal. The adults feared that there was something more behind the crash, although as is the way with adults when trying to understand twelve-year olds, they had no idea what the real issue was nor did they think to ask Mike about it. So the parents had determined that adding Mike to the vacation might help. He would have been distressed to know there were patronizing roots to the invitation, but since both boys were ignorant of this fact they were both quite excited about the trip, and Mike joined Joey in hopping around the living room, which turned into them running around the house, which turned into the normal pandemonium that follows teenage boys wherever they go. Once Mrs. Albers heard the commotion, she left the kitchen to see what the noise was about, and when she saw that the kids were responding to the trip she smiled rather than scold them. It was good to see her son laughing and playing and not displaying the worried expression he lately constantly wore. There was an unfortunate disturbance in time/space the following week, or so it seemed to Mike. He calculated 259 hours from the time he was told about the trip to departure, but he was quite sure in the end it took approximately 597 hours for spring break to actually arrive. According to the several clocks around the house, this was not the case, but Mike felt that you couldn't really trust clocks during a disturbance in the time/space field anyway. Eventually the big day did arrive, and amidst much fanfare (if Mike's parents waiving good-bye from the driveway qualifies as fanfare), the Shulers headed to the beach home with their plus-one in the back seat. The first couple of days were a blur, but the good kind, the 'we're having too much fun' kind, not the 'I was in a massive bicycle accident' kind of blur. Joey and Mike had claimed the attic bedroom at the beach house, a controversy that had garnered quite the contrarian opinion by Jack, Joey's 16-year old brother, who felt he should be given the more private quarters. He claimed he had been waiting his entire life for his brothers to be away from home and off at college, opening the room for his use. Apparently, being denied this all-important honor was going to ruin the trip, the year, and his entire childhood, a fact all were ignorant of until Jack proclaimed it loudly to the household. He threw a rather childish fit for someone licensed to drive, and the sight of someone more than four years older than Mike acting out made Mike quite uncomfortable. But then Mr. Shuler had stepped in and brokered a deal. Jack would be given the master suite for the duration of their stay, which had a private bathroom, its own balcony and a 50-inch television. The other brothers had never, ever been offered the master suite, so this proved more than acceptable to the teen and peace once again descended on the household. The boys were more or less given free reign on how they spent their days, and they spent them well. Mornings were for patrolling the beaches, exploring the rocky tidal pools and chasing the various seabirds that lived along the coast. The beach house was located about seventy miles north of Monterey Bay, so the area was teeming with life, and as a young scientist Mike found everything fascinating. Afternoons were spent exploring the national parks, running up and down the trails expending the kind of energy that only 12-year old boys have on tap. Mike and Joey had taken on several of the harder hiking trails, coming home at night with tales of mutant slug monsters (it should be noted that banana slugs are neither mutants nor monsters) and weird alien landscapes. Mr. Shuler had insisted on accompanying the boys the following day - he was intrigued by their tales of a hiking trail to an abandoned airfield. The boys had failed to mention that the hike, although only nine miles, involved a change in elevation of several thousand feet. Mr. Shuler, to his credit, completed the hike, but it was the last time he tagged along for an adventure with the kids. The third day Joey took Mike to one of the coolest places of all. It was the evacuation shelter for the area, one that served San Francisco and the outlying areas, and although the underground areas were closed off, the entrance lobby was open to the public. Four years later, Joey would be evacuating from this very location, although it would be considerably more crowded at the time. Mike, on the other hand, would leave from a moderately smaller facility near his college. Today, however, the large mausoleum-like room was empty except for the occasional tourist, and the boys marveled at the murals and stained glass features in the huge space. Quickly boring of this, they discovered if they removed their shoes their sock-clad feet slid against the polished marble floor like it was ice. This resulted in an extended game of make-believe ice soccer. In retrospect, hockey would have made more sense. On day six disaster struck. Well, a minor catastrophe, but disaster nonetheless. The guys had been rough-housing in their room before bed, bouncing around, wrestling, being boys. Unfortunately, during a rather daring leap by Joey, who sought to upset a line of toy bowling ball pins, which in this case represented the Special Ops forces under Mike's command, he misjudged the distance and rammed into the nightstand, which sent an open container of milk tumbling onto the bed and spilling everywhere. The guys had tried to covertly clean up their mess, but sadly the toy pins could not offer any real-world advice to the kids. Otherwise they might have told them that when rowdy preteens go quiet and are then seen smuggling two rolls of paper towels to their rooms, it inevitably draws the attention of any adult in the area. "Oh, you guys," Mrs. Shuler sighed as she pulled the sheets off the bed. It was well past eleven, and she was clearly not in the mood to do laundry. "I have no idea how you managed to spill half a quart of milk in your bed." "One might say we managed to save a half quart of milk," Joey proffered, which garnered a glare and raised eyebrow that seemed to indicate this was a comment that may have resulted in a scolding had Mike not been there. Mrs. Shuler took the soiled linens to the laundry room, returning shortly with a set of purple silk sheets. "This is all that's clean, so it will have to do tonight. Tomorrow you can do all the laundry downstairs, please." Joey huffed a little at the assigned chore, but didn't say anything. Most boys inherently know not to push their mothers so soon after making a big mess, and instead of offering up any attitude he wisely promised to complete the task first thing the following morning, and even went so far as to promise immediate bedtime for him and his friend. The two boys climbed into the queen-sized bed, as promised, although they did quietly chatter back and forth, which only seemed fair since the bargain struck with Mrs. Shuler had been to go to bed, not necessarily to go to sleep. They talked about the things young friends talk about late at night. Skateboards and bikes, video games and music, mutant banana slugs. Hours passed and the teens failed to tire, as teens often do, although the conversation slowed to a flow of hushed whispers that were punctuated by long bouts of silence. It was typical for Mike and Joey, the silence between comments growing longer and longer until they drifted off to sleep. "These sheets are weird," Joey commented. Mike could hear a slight rustle from Joey's side of the bed, his friend obviously feeling the material of the replacement bedding. The sheets were, in fact, weird. The silk was smooth and cool against the skin of Mike's arms and legs. The bedding was quite unlike the cotton sheets they'd had before the milk incident. "Yeah, it's really slippery," Mike replied, also running his arms over the smooth material. He'd never had silk sheets or clothes before, although he'd sometimes seen boxer shorts at the mall and wondered how the material would compare to his cotton underwear. He brought this up to Joey. "Yeah, I bet silk would be all slick against your skin, maybe almost like being naked," Joey mused. The word naked struck a chord with Mike, as it could with teenagers, and made him feel a little funny in his tummy. "I mean, do you ever sleep naked?" Joey asked. "Uh, not really," Mike responded. This wasn't altogether true. Before learning that he was defective, Mike had on occasion stripped down in his bed to enjoy the sensation of being nude before falling asleep. Since this resulted in an erection, and since erections were now completely forbidden, he wasn't apt to disrobe after-hours anymore. "Oh," Joey replied, "well, these sheets are cool. I'm going to take my shirt off to see how they feel." There was an even greater rustling from the other side of the bed as Joey sat up and shucked his t-shirt before lying back down. Mike could hear his friend moving around under the sheets, which sent another funny feeling down his spine and deep into his tummy. "Wow. This is so awesome. It's like smooth and slick and weird feeling," Joey said, describing the sensation of the sheets against his skin. "Hey, take your shirt off, this is really cool!" Mike longed to do just that. The fabric felt great against his forearms, and he was certain that it would be even better against his stomach and chest, but there was something awkward and weird about stripping down next to his best friend for a tactile experiment like this. "Uh, that's ok." There was no question that Joey was the alpha between the two. He was a year older, and his personality was more exuberant and boisterous than Mike's, although it has to be said that this exuberance definitely rubbed off on the other teen, who was generally happier, more hyper and far less sullen when around Joey. As such, Joey would often push the boundaries a little, with or without Mike's consent. This turned out to be one of those times. "Well, I want to try this naked. Then I can see what silk undies are like. Hold on," the older boy stated. He shifted around, and although he'd said he was going to disrobe, Mike had a hard time believing he would actually get nude in the same bed with his friend. The very thought of it sent another surge of weirdness through Mike's body. "Ohh, cool," Joey cooed, "This is awesome. It's like being naked, but also the sheets are like soft ice." Apparently the teen had been quite serious about shedding his pjs in the bed, which was short-circuiting Mike's brain with the mixed emotions of being simultaneously excited and uncomfortable. "Hey, let's try mummy-scratches." Mummy scratches was a game they'd invented a couple of years earlier, and one they hadn't played for some time. Basically, it was a sleepover game that involved rolling yourself up in the sheets and then letting the other boy scratch your back. It wasn't clear why back-scratching required rolling up in a sheet, nor why the occult element of Egyptian zombies was incorporated, but that's the way the game had evolved for the two. "Uh..." Mike started, but Joey cut him off. "Oh come one, it'll be cool. Mummy-scratches was made for silk sheets." Joey began shifting around, and suddenly Mike's portion of the blankets was pulled off him as the other boy rolled himself up enchilada-style. Joey seemed quite relaxed, but for Mike there was an unbearable tension in the room. The adrenaline that had begun coursing through his body was making his hands shake a little, and the thought of his best friend nude except for a sheer sheet, a best friend who was expecting Mike to touch him and scratch his back, was making things worse. "Ok, get to it," Joey said once he was in position, his voice muffled by the bedding. The game was extremely simple - now that Joey was lying face-down on the bed, Mike was supposed to give him a good back scratch. And although he felt weird about it, this variation wasn't all that different from the game they'd played the year prior, so Mike scooted over to Joey, who had covered himself head-to-toe in the purple silk sheet so that he looked like some bizarre lavender insect cocoon. But the room was completely dark, so Mike couldn't really see much more than a dark lump where his friend lay. Reaching out into the inky dimness of the room, his fingers came into contact with his friend's silk-covered shoulder blade. Mike relaxed a little. Sure Joey was nude under the sheet, but this wasn't so much unlike their previous back scratching. Mike proceeded to give Joey the same style back scratch he had a dozen times before. The difference this time, however, was that the sheer fabric of the sheet gave Mike a completely different tactile experience. The boys were usually wrapped in a cotton sheet over their pjs, so the scratching occurred through several layers of thick fabric. With the silk and no pajamas, however, Mike could feel every detail of Joey's body, down to the heat he was radiating. Mike scratched at Joey's back with his left hand, feeling his friend's skin and bones and the young muscles that had just begun putting on the bulk of manhood. He completed his routine, which was about ten minutes of scratching. This usually indicated a shift in turns, and as Mike stopped Joey shifted around. He didn't climb out of the sheet, however, and had just rolled over. "Here," he said, "now do the front." The request was odd for several reasons. First, they'd never mummy-scratched fronts before, and secondly Joey was naked under the sheet. "I don't know, Joey, wouldn't that feel kinda weird?" Mike stammered. "Please," the other boy asked, a slight tone of pleading in his voice, "I want to see how it feels." Now the adrenaline and teen awkwardness was giving Mike full-on shakes. He wanted to say no, but then again he also wanted to feel what his friend felt like under the sheet. Mike slowly reached out until his hand grazed Joey's chest. Where Joey's back had been covered with two layers of the silk, his front was only encased in a single sheer layer, and when Mike put his hand against Joey he could feel the details of his friend's skin, the strong teenage heart beating in his chest and even the pert nipple that was pressing erect against the fabric. Joey sighed at the contact. "Oh my god, that's so cool. Feel me all over," Joey said. Mike obeyed his friend, giving his front more of an exploratory feel than a scratching. He ran his fingers along his chest, feeling the symmetry of Joey's developing body, and then up to his face, which was also covered by the silk. Mike felt along Joey's nose, which made the other boy snort and giggle a little, apparently tickling the youth. Mike ran a finger along his friend's eyebrow, marveling at how clearly he could feel the hairs through the sheet. Mike was unbearably nervous, but also at ease because he and Joey were such good friends. Still, this exploration was far more intimate than anything he'd ever done before, and as such it felt ten times as forbidden and exciting. Mike moved lower, feeling Joey's thin arms and then his tummy. He'd seen him naked before, of course, but it wasn't until he was running his hand over Joey's abdomen that he noticed how the muscles there had moved well along the path the adulthood, and instead of the smooth kid tummy the boy had sported a year before there was the beginnings of a six pack, one that would fully form over the next two years. Once Mike had moved down Joey's body enough to feel his friend's navel, Mike could tell that the sheet was pulling away from Joey's torso, and that made it clear that the teen had a boner. A feeling of awkwardness returned and he abruptly stopped the exploratory massage. "Pretty cool," Mike said, vague on whether he was referring to the sheets or the experience. There was a noticeable shaking in his voice. "Yeah," Joey sighed. "Ok, your turn." "No, uh, that's ok, I'm kinda sleepy," Mike lamely replied, although he really wanted to see what the sheet felt like against his naked skin, not to mention what his friend's hands felt like through the sheet. "No way," Joey insisted, "fair's fair. You did me, now I'm doing you. Get undressed." It was more of an order than a request, followed immediately by Joey unrolling himself from the sheet and tossing it over Mike's head. Again, the youth didn't feel like arguing with his more dominant friend, so he slowly pulled his shirt over his head and removed it. The sheet billowed, then slowly settled on his frame. Mike gasped a little. The fabric did indeed feel awesome against his naked shoulders. He scuttled out of his bottoms, momentarily considering leaving his undies on. However, Joey had been naked, so Mike was pretty sure his friend would insist on him being the same. Also, he was getting past his nerves a little and into the game. Mike rolled up in the sheet and went to lie facedown, but Joey tugged him over. "Here, front first. It feels cooler." Mike rolled onto his back, and was suddenly very aware of being naked except for the sheer layer of fabric. His nerves returned and he started shaking quite uncontrollably. Joey clearly noticed. "Hey, dude, what's the matter? It's ok if you want to go to sleep." "No-o-o, that's-s-s ok-k-k," Joey started, startled that he was now so nervous that his words were coming out ragged and stuttering. For some reason this suddenly seemed immensely hilarious and he let out a nervous giggle. "I don't-t-t know what's-s-s wrong with me-e-e. This-s-s is just-t-t a little weird-d-d, I guess-s-s." This seemed to really concern Joey, who despite being a little bossy was always concerned about his friend's well-being. "It's no big deal. Here, just lie back and relax." Mike did, and tried to stop shaking when he breathed. Suddenly, he felt Joey's hand on his chest, and there was a jolt of sensations running through his body that seemed to demand that he ignore the shaking and nerves. The boy relaxed a little. Joey ran both hands over Mike, seemingly very intent on putting his nervous friend at ease. He ran his hands over Mike's face and head, and then down his chest to his stomach, which was still shaking with each heartbeat. "Wow, shakey," Joey said, pointing out how Mike's body was vibrating with each breath. "Sorry-y-y," Mike whispered. "It's ok," Joey said in a comforting manner. He pressed his right hand against Mike's tummy, possibly trying to calm the muscles that were stuck in nervous flutter. It worked a little, but Mike could feel the shakiness lingering right behind his sternum, ready to return at the slightest impetus. Joey moved his hands down to Mike's knees, feeling the knobbiness of the bone there through the sheet. Mike thought Joey was going to feel down his legs like Mike had done to Joey only moments before, but instead the youth's hands moved upward onto Mike's thighs. Mike had a boner, of course - he'd had one since the naked game had begun, but he was now more conscientious of it that ever before, his best friend's hand mere inches away from him manhood. Mike tensed under the lavender sheet. Joey sensed his friend's stress, and whispered back to him, "Calm down, it's ok." Later Mike would reflect that Joey had wanted things to progress in this direction from the very beginning, and in all honesty this was a-ok with Mike, but at this moment, lying nude under a single layer of sheer fabric in the darkened silence of the attic bedroom, things felt as if they were spontaneously evolving into an unexpected direction, a direction that was fulfilled when Joey's forefinger very, very lightly brushed Mike's scrotum through the sheet. The feeling was electric and instant, a newfound sensation that was somewhere between bizarre and wonderful. Mike felt his body come alive at its very core as pleasure shot up his spine and into the deepest recesses of his brain. He involuntarily gasped at the touch. Having come this far, Joey apparently decided to go all-in. He allowed his finger to move upwards, running it along Mike's rigid shaft. For his part, Mike responded with a second gasp and a squirm. He was just barely able to process the sensation of someone touching his young balls, and this was about ten times as intense. Joey's finger traced the outline of the shaft through the sheet, stopping short of the tip. "Is this ok?" his friend asked. How to answer that? Mike was in the unique position of being felt up for the first time. It was as if his body had just discovered a use for 90% of his genetic coding, and it all had to do with getting his boner rubbed by someone else. He wanted Joey's hand where it was, and he wanted it to stay there forever, but he was also suddenly very conscious of his deformity. "It's-s-s ok," Mike replied, his shaking slightly more under control, "It's just that, and you have to promise never to tell..." "Yeah?" "I'm kinda broken. You know, down there." Although it was a short phrase of relatively innocuous words, this was a tremendous moment in Mike's life. He was admitting the darkest of his secrets to his best friend, a secret that made him feel worthless and endlessly embarrassed. He was almost certain that once he explained things he and Joey would no longer be friends. Or even worse, Joey would tell everyone in the world and then he'd have no friends at all. It was an odd concern, but as we've said, teenage boys can be big into melodrama. Joey snorted, grasping Mike's shaft in his hand. "It doesn't feel all that broken to me." And it was this comment that send Mike to babbling. He babbled about how he was curved, and how his penis was weird. He admitted to trying to fix it, and although he left out some of the gorier details, he confessed mostly everything to Joey in one frantic lump of whispers and stress. Joey listened patiently, as good friends will, and then told Mike there was nothing wrong with him, laughing a little as he responded. "You do know they come in all shapes and sizes, right?" "Well, yeah," Mike replied, "but they're not supposed to curve like this." "You're kind of weird," Joey said, which was oddly comforting. "There's no 'supposed to' for dicks. As long as they work, they work. Here, let me see." And with that, Joey ran his hands along the full length of Mike's erect (and curved) penis. Mike inhaled sharply at the sensation. Sure, Joey was just checking him out, but it was still an unexpected and erotic sensation. After grabbing it in his fist, Joey said, "See, just what I thought. It's not all that curvey. Not the most curved I've seen in movies, anyway. And besides, mine curves like that too. Here, see." Joey took Mike's hand in his and moved it over to his crotch, which he'd covered with the edge of the silk sheet. Mike's hand came into contact with Joey's hard member beneath the sheet and instinctively grabbed on. Joey was telling the truth. His penis felt slightly larger than Mike's, and it extended from his body in an upward curve, not quite as dramatic, but still curved. Mike suddenly realized that he'd been very stupid, and he flushed a little with embarrassment. "Yeah," he said, in acknowledgement of his friend's curviness. "The important thing," Joey said, "Is that it works. It works, right?" "Huh?" Mike asked, suddenly concerned that he might be broken in some other way. "Here, let's see," Joey said, pulling the sheet off Mike's body and exposing his nudity to the room. The older boy wrapped his hand around Mike's now fully exposed boner and began stroking up and down. Under normal circumstances Mike would have dove for cover, but the immense explosion of enjoyment the coursed through him froze the boy into place. "Oh-oh-oh," the younger boy gasped, "What are you doing?!" Waves of a newfound type of pleasure swept over the boy as his friend introduced him to the back and forth motion that a billion years of evolution had programmed his brain to enjoy. "Wanking you off," Joey said matter-of-factly. "You don't do this?" "No," Mike replied, gasping and squirming. "I...oh....get naked...ugh....sometimes, but...oh..." Joey chuckled at his friend's inability to form a coherent sentence. He'd been jerking off for over a year, and knew the pleasure Mike was discovering. "This is wanking off," he explained as his friend writhed under his hands, "you have to do it all the time after you get pubes or else you go crazy. It feels really good." "Yeah...ugh...no kidding...ah..." Mike spluttered in response. Joey wasn't giving the best handjob in the history of the world, but it was Mike's first and it fulfilled its purpose quickly and efficiently. After only a minute or two of stroking, Mike felt an odd pressure building in between his legs and was suddenly acutely aware that he was about to piss all over his best friend. "Joey, stop, I gotta pee," Mike stated urgently. Joey didn't stop, but rather chuckled at his friend's ignorance. "Nah, you're just about to cum. This is the best part." Mike wanted to hop up and run to the bathroom, but the pleasure was holding him firmly in place. His legs convulsed and the youth was sure that he was about to release a torrent of urine all over the bed, something that would make the milk accident look mild in comparison. But at the same time, it wasn't quite the same as needing to pee, and as Mike pondered this he lost the battle, his muscle involuntarily contracting to fulfill it's primary duty. "Arg, jeez, what the fuck...ERGHHHH!" Mike exclaimed as his first manually- induced orgasm gripped him. His entire body tensed, his eyes rolling up into his head as stars appeared in his field of vision. Wave after wave of pleasure moved through his frame as his body convulsed again and again. A small blob of thick clear fluid oozed out the end of his penis. Mike was advanced enough to know what this was, but he'd never really stopped to consider the immensity of the sensations the whole reproductive cycle inflicted. No wonder there's such a fuss, he thought to himself as his orgasm subsided. Joey had pushed events in this direction as a result of his own adolescent horniness, and the sight of his best friend experiencing an orgasm, the grunts and 'ohs!' coming from Mike were too much for the thirteen year-old. The nude games had pushed his body to the limit and he needed immediate release. The boy hopped up on his knees, kneeling at the edge of the bed, and frantically began pounding at his boner. Mike watched in fascination as his more experienced friend brought himself off as quickly as he possibly could. It didn't take long, nor did it take too many strokes before Joey was gasping just like Mike had been seconds before. "Ah, ah, ah, AHHH!" he grunted as he came. Mike watched as several thick ropes of cum erupted out the end of Joey's dick. His friend was obviously a little further along in puberty, Mike though before giggling inwardly at the way he nerdishly observed the world. Once both boys had cum there was a general feeling that they needed to retreat beneath the sheets, not so much out of embarrassment or awkwardness, but more so that they weren't overheard by the other Shulers downstairs. Both boys were now very conscientious about being caught, and although Mike wanted to repeat the boner rubbing and was still filled with youthful sexual energy, the boys stuck with whispers about sex and jerking off and things that young friends talk about after their first mutual masturbation. Joey was quite open about his own experiences, and although neither of them fully realized it yet, this was a night that cemented their friendship firmly into place, and also a night that put the bulk of Mike's irrational anxieties behind him. Once they'd told every tale they wanted to tell, and once there was no more to say that was worth keeping increasingly droopy eyes open, the two boys finally fell to sleep. The following morning, after a breakfast of banana pecan waffles and bacon, Mr. and Mrs. Shuler announced that they would be attending an opera up in the city and staying overnight in a hotel, and that Jack would be in charge for the next twenty-four hours. This had immediate tremendous impact on the boys since all teens desire being left overnight alone for some reason. Well, Mike and Joey's reasons were probably pretty obvious. Both kids were massively horned and ready to try some more bedtime play. Mrs. Shuler misinterpreted the youths' hyperactivity as general mischievousness, and laid out a LONG list of rules and regulations that were to be strictly followed, including that everyone was confined to the beach house once the adults left. Once the list had been gone through three or four times, and once both Jack and Joey had sworn themselves to good behavior, the Shulers left an ample pile of pizza money on the kitchen counter and took off for the city. When Mike had first met Joey, there were occasions when Jack would allow the two to hang out with him. Over the past year, however, the 16 year-old hadn't been that accepting of the younger teens' presence. Mike thought this was too bad, particularly since Jack was older, cooler and had his own car. Mike never stopped to consider that these were the exact reasons the older teen didn't want the two younger kids around. The two were therefore quite surprised when Jack suggested they spend the afternoon in his room playing video games. They were even more surprised when, after their twentieth or so round of a favorite multi-player war-game, Jack crossed the room and opened a backpack to produce a rather large bottle of brownish liquid. "Well," the cool older boy stated, "if I'm gonna be stuck at home all night, I'm gonna get buzzed." With that, he took a deep swig of the contents, wincing a little as he drank. He crossed back to the couch and passed the bottle to Joey, collapsing between the boys. It's not often that a thirteen year old has access to liquor without having to sneak it or work for it, and Joey wasn't about to refuse the invitation. He took a drink from the bottle, coughing considerably as he passed it across Jack's chest to Mike. Mike, wanting to impress the older kid, tried taking as deep a drink as Jack had, but not being prepared for drinking what tasted like liquid fire, he involuntarily gave a great cough, sending a torrent of the unpleasant liquid into his nose, which made him choke and sputter all the more. "Whoa, buddy, careful there," Jack said. Mike turned red, both from the choking and embarrassment. Once Mike had successfully fought off imminent death, they boys resumed their game. Jack would take gulps from the bottle now and then before passing it along. For the most part Mike and Joey both abstained, although Mike took the occasional sip. Frankly, it tasted awful, but it felt cool and Mike liked the tingling sensation the liquor was causing in his toes. After another couple of bloody gun battles, Jack announced that he was hot from the bourbon and stood up to shuck his hoodie and sweatpants, collapsing back on the couch in a grey tank and black boxer briefs before taking another swig. Mike idolized Jack, as twelve year-olds often will. Jack was older, more mature. He was on the track and swim team and had his own car. And perhaps most notable, he was well on his way to manhood, having put on many pounds of muscle over the past year. He'd also taken to leaving his face unshaven, and the scruffiness made him seem even cooler. Mike considered this as he stared at the older kid, now in his underwear. Suddenly he noticed that Joey was also staring, and the two younger boys' eyes met. The two broke into giggles, largely fueled by all the weird energy over the past day and the alcohol. "What are you two laughing about?" Jack asked, not prying his attention away from the game. "Jerking off," Joey responded. It wasn't a totally accurate response, but it seemed like the funniest joke in the world at the time, and the two boys fell into uncontrollable fits of laughter. "God, you two are SO weird," Jack replied in response to the laughing teens. Mike did, in fact, feel a little weird. The world had become a little blurry, and considerably more relaxed. This made the preteen laugh a little harder. The two eventually calmed down enough to return to the game, not that it mattered. Jack seemed capable of hunting them down and shooting them regardless of their strategy. Mike's fingers felt a little mushy, and he wondered if that was contributing to his losing streak. After losing to Jack twice more he decided to try hiding in an old plane wreck at the edge of a reef. "Dammit, why'd you have to mention jerking off?" Jack spontaneously asked after another twenty minutes of gaming. "Now I'm all ancy." Mike looked away from the screen at Jack, and could immediately tell what the older boy was talking about. The already significant lump in his shorts had become noticeably larger and begun to tent. Jack didn't seem overly concerned about his erection, or about pointing it out, and took another drink from his bottle. Joey passed, but Mike tried to gulp down a decent swallow of the terrible liquid, this time still coughing but not choking. The plane strategy turned out to be a bust - Jack always managed to locate a rocket propelled grenade launcher that turned the downed craft into an aluminum coffin for Mike's character. Joey didn't fare much better. As the trio played on, Mike occasionally snuck a glance at Jack's lap, which had continued to tent until the older teenager was fully erect. "Well, I can't help it," Jack suddenly stated. Mike looked up to see that the older boy had caught him looking. "Sorry," Mike mumbled, turning red yet again. Jack chuckled, "No problem. Kinda hard to hide. Yours is too." Mike looked down and saw that he was indeed noticeably aroused. Later he would learn that having an upward curving dick had its advantages - many times throughout his teenage years he would resort to hooking an unwanted erection into the waistband of his undies so as to hide his aroused state. But he had yet to learn that trick, and his boner was pressing into his cotton shorts with wild abandon. Jack and Mike looked each other in the eye, an instant camaraderie forming, born of mutual arousal and slight drunkenness. At least that's why Mike assumed everything was a little blurry and quite hilarious. The boys moved to another battlefield, a decayed urban wasteland in a snowstorm, and Jack set about beating their asses yet again. The older teen had moved his hands and the controller into his lap, and while Mike mostly watched the screen he could see Jack pushing his boner around through his shorts from time to time. Occasionally when he was under fire and the controller began to buzz Jack would press it into his briefs, presumably enjoying the sensation. Mike looked over to Joey to see that his friend was also clearly aroused, his dick neatly tenting his green athletic shorts. The two friends smiled at each other, the events of the previous night making things seem considerably more relaxed than they might have otherwise been. The boys played on, each now shifting their bodies a little more often and adjusting themselves a little more frequently. Nothing much was said about the sexual energy in the room, but it was there and palpable. Jack's character eventually located Mike's and let loose with an AK-47, sending Mike's controller into a bout of frantic buzzing. Mike took the opportunity to press the controller into his lap, the game vibrations spreading throughout his crotch. It felt weird, but also kind of good. Jack looked over at Mike and chuckled. Mike had little hope of winning the next round, now having to contend with Jack's superior playing skills, his own arousal, slight drunkenness, and his thoughts about Joey's older brother. Jack was much further along in puberty than either Mike or Joey, and Mike could not help but notice all the little differences between Jack's body and his own. While Mike was pretty much hairless all over, Jack had a fine black dusting of hair on his forearms and legs, which made sense considering that the teenager had facial hair. But when Jack stretched, reaching his arms up over his head after killing Joey's avatar, his tank rose up over his navel, revealing a pale stretch of skin along his lower abdomen, which featured a trail of black hair leading into his shorts. Mike felt an odd surge of energy in his own pants when he noticed this. "Ok, now you guys have to concentrate for reals, 'cause creaming you is getting kind of boring," Jack announced at the beginning of the next round. Mike and Joey quickly discussed a strategy they assumed might turn things in their favor. The new tactics worked for a while, allowing the younger boys to evade the relentless Jack longer than they ever had before. Mike was trying to locate his weapon of choice in order to go after Jack when his concentration was broken. "Whoops," Jack spoke up, slightly slurring his words, "would you look at that?" Mike glanced over and was quite shocked to see that the older boy had managed to manipulate his boxer briefs so that his aroused cock was now sticking out of the fly, and even though it was still partially covered in fabric it looked huge, particularly to Mike and Joey, who hadn't come anywhere near their maximum length yet. Jack chuckled and continued the game, somehow managing to hunt down Joey while simultaneously using his wrists to play with himself. Mike considered that Jack must have practiced gaming and masturbation together before, although thinking about this led to a rather gruesome death for Mike's character. Joey fared much better, ending up in a game of cat and mouse that lasted for some time. Mike, now out of the game, decided that if the alcohol gave Jack license to be bold it did him as well, so while the brothers dueled it out on screen Mike manipulated his shorts so as to allow his now throbbing boner freedom in the afternoon air. Jack looked over briefly and smiled, causing Mike to flush at the older kid's approval. He'd never have done it if he hadn't been a little drunk, but as is often the case with alcohol, a freed boner felt like the best idea in the world. Eventually, sadly for Joey, his character died yet again. Coming out of his game concentration, he noted that now his best friend had his erection out. Jack cued up another round of onscreen bloodshed, and while that loaded Joey took the opportunity to slide off his shorts and underwear, his boner popping out proudly. "Nice," Jack commented as Joey's erection plopped audibly against his tummy. "Bourbon always gives me the horns," he explained, taking the opportunity to pull his full erection and balls out of the fly on his shorts. Mike was wide-eyed as his friend presented his full manhood. Jack's cock was well on its way to adulthood, and pointed upward at a 45 degree angle. Like his brother's, it was slightly curved. Mike felt mostly better about his curved dick after the previous night's events, but seeing this boy he idolized, this older cool kid, with a curved dick immediately and forever eliminated his feeling bad about his shape. The trio began another round of the game, one that would have seemed quite humorous to an onlooker, as well as considerably erotic. The three boys were all exposed now, and while they were trying to concentrate on the game in order to beat the others, their primary focus was on simultaneously massaging their dicks. Jack was the best at this. He could somehow hold the controller and manipulate all eighteen or so buttons while slipping a finger or two down along his shaft. Mike, who hadn't yet truly learned to masturbate even without the controller, was moderately clumsy at his attempts, but it still felt good to feel himself as he tried to play the game. Joey had tried a third strategy, resting the controller on the base of his shaft so that his dick remained within reach of his thumbs. It soon became evident that playing the game was completely secondary to getting off, and all three avatars spent most of their time wandering in useless circles as the three boys focused on touching themselves. "Dude, I am soooo freaking boned," Jack stated as he played with himself. Since neither Jack nor Joey seemed prone to shooting Mike's character, the boy broke eye contact with the screen to focus on Jack's arousal. Jack, an avid masturbator (as most sixteen year-olds are), was expertly working his dick, and whether on purpose or not he was teaching Mike tons about what was soon to become a full time hobby for the youth. Jack grabbed his shaft right below his red helmet between his thumb and forefinger, gently but forcefully jerking his cock in small strokes. Mike would have spent years masturbating on his own before trying this particular motion, but he took a cue from the older boy and gave it a shot. "Oh!" he exclaimed, surprised at how good the motion felt. "Yeah, pretty sweet, huh?" Jack replied and Mike grinned back. The boys were now in intense heat, and the oldest showed it most. He began producing a copious amount of precum, which drooled down his dick and made the entire shaft glisten in the afternoon light. Joey also produced a little of the liquid. "Are you cumming?" Mike asked, a little hesitant to reveal his ignorance to the older boy. "Naw," Jack replied. "This is precum. It lubes things up nice and slick, feels real good. You'll probably do it when you're older." Jack, his cock now slick, began panting a little more deeply, then suddenly reached up to violently tug his shirt over his head. He showed a little more caution in removing his underwear, making sure not to smash his balls when pulling them out of the fly. He collapsed back onto the couch, now naked. Mike and Joey looked at one another then happily followed suit, sucking their clothes in a hurried fashion, all three boys caught up in a flurry of youthful hormones. Controllers and clothing abandoned, the fully naked trio paid avid attention to their own boners and watched one another. Mike couldn't get over how hot Jack looked, his developed muscles flexing in time with his strokes. Each time Jack changed grip Mike would follow suit, sampling each stroking style for the first time. Being teenagers, things didn't last too long. This time Joey was the first to erupt, catching Mike by surprise while he watched Jack stroke. "Uh, uh, uh!" Joey exclaimed, suddenly turning beet red as his dick pulsed and shot several ropes of cum onto his abs. Mike briefly thought to wonder how fast the fluid replaced itself, but this internal inquiry was short-lived when his own orgasm set in. He again thought he was about to piss himself, but remembered what happened the night before and continued to stroke his dick in the same technique Jack was using. "Urg!" he grunted as he brought himself to orgasm for the first time. Another small glob of clear semen ejected weakly from his dick on the first spasm. "Cool," Jack stated, looking first at his brother then at Mike. His eyes rolled up into his head and he stroked even faster. "Ohhhhhhhhhhh," he began in one long syllable, his entire body tensing and showing off the benefits of a year of swimming and track, "fuuuuuuuuuuuccccccckkkkkkkkkkkkkkk!!!" he yelled, his large balls pulling up briefly into his crotch before several white ropes of cum spewed out of his cock and onto his upper chest. The three teenagers, their bodies soaked in hormonal bliss, collapsed back on the sofa. "Ahhhhhh," Jack sighed, "I needed that." "Me too," Joey beamed. The three laughed at their bliss and nakedness and nudity. Jack picked up his discarded tank and wiped himself off, passing it along to Mike to do the same. The younger boy proudly took the t-shirt as if it were some mysterious trophy of manhood and used it to clean up the minor mess he had produced. Some of Jack's semen wiped off on his smooth stomach, and the boy felt an odd twitch in his balls at this. "I didn't know you two could spunk," Jack said, clapping his hands roughly against the naked backs of the two boys. "That's awesome." "I've been doing it about a year," Joey proudly stated, "but Mike just learned last night." "What?" Jack responded in mild astonishment. "No way, that's so cool. Way to go dude." Mike was a little annoyed at Joey for pointing him out as a newbie, but the accolade coming from Jack in response kept him from getting too angry. He felt somehow like he'd just joined a super-cool club or something. "Dudes," Jack said, smiling mischievously, "if you're up for it I should show you a few things." The boys were twelve, thirteen and sixteen, and although they'd just cum it was clear from three rampant erections that they were all three ready to go again, as young boys are. "Hell yeah," Joey exclaimed, and Mike joined in, excited to keep the naked games going. The house their own for the evening, Jack jumped up off the couch and went to the next room, still fully naked. The two younger boys followed Joey's brother in excitement, and for the following hours the older boy did indeed show the younger kids a thing or two. First Jack produced a rather raunchy sex magazine and the three played with themselves on his bed while looking at it. "Ugh," Jack grunted as he came on the periodical. "Urg," Joey followed suit. "Ahrg!" Mike exclaimed lastly, still not used to the intensity of orgasm. Next the three boys had a snack in the kitchen when they noticed a large watermelon on the counter. Jack mentioned a porn site where there was discussion of fucking melons, and about twenty seconds later the hapless fruit had three holes and three teenage dicks in its sides. Standing in a triangle with his two hot friends and penetrating the melon together was far more erotic than fucking the fruit itself, and this time Mike came first. "YEAH!" he panted. The must have inspired Jack, because once Joey had cum with his customary chirping he bucked violently into the fruit, exclaiming "Yee-Haw!" loudly before ejaculating. After disposing of the melon, Jack introduced the boys to lotion. "Uh...uh...uh...uh!" "OH...oh....oh...oh!" "ERGH...yeah...pant....gasp!" Then they learned about real lube. "Ohmygod...ohmygod....ohmygod....ohmygod!" "Fuck...ohhhhhhhhhhfuuuuuuuucccccckkkkkkkk!!!" "AHHHHHHHHHHHHH.........." Then they showered. Together. And Jack taught them about showering together. "Uh...uh...uh...uh!" "Here it comes...ughhhhhhh!" "ohyeahohyeahohyeahohyeahohyeahohyeahohyeahohyeah!" And so on. By the end of the night, when it was quite late and the three were quite spent, they counted up at least ten orgasms apiece. If this seems unbelievable, think back to those early days of pubescence. By the end none of the boys were producing anything more than pleasure and convulsions, and Mike had rubbed himself rather raw, and while the orgasms were beginning to seem more painful than pleasurable, three dicks, all of them curved, still stood at attention. "Cool," Mike giggled before falling asleep that night, "pretty freaking cool."