Usual warnings apply. Not 18+? Go away.
I wrote this first chapter, Peter edited. Comments and helpful suggestions welcome, either to me (martalgran@yahoo.co.uk) or to Peter kanopeer@checkjemail.nl
Billy Need to Lighten Up
The note was there when me and Jake got back from MacDonald's. We could see that the door to the trailer was hanging open as we crossed towards it.
"Did you leave it like that?" I asked. `I've got my stuff in there!'
Already I had found out that Jake could be pretty careless, too casual about things. But he denied it.
"Shit no, man. Anyway, you was last out."
We went in.
And there it was, on the table, pinned by a big metal spike. It was all big block letters in black felt tip, the sort of thing you read about in books.
'MIDNIGHT HAVE IT OR FREDDY GETS SPITROASTED'
That was it.
I picked up the spike thing; it was a skewer like you would use on the BBQ. I had seen chickens get roasted on these things, even whole pigs on bigger ones. The image was grizzly and murderous. It never occurred to me there might be another meaning to spit roasted. Not then.
"We gotta call the police," was my first reaction.
"No, first we gotta find Freddie. And fast," Jake said.
I admit my only thought was not to be in that bloody trailer at midnight. But I'm getting way ahead of myself here. I better explain.
It was partly my own fault but mainly it was dad. My father is not Mr. Organized.
He'd known for weeks about this Star Trek Convention; him and mum being total fans, he had made up his mind we were going, promised he would make the arrangements. Well, he had booked the convention, but clean overlooked to reserve us a hotel room. His mind must have been in Klingon space. Me? I was against going from the start. Big fan of Trekdom I am not. Insisted I could stay over at Aunt Cathy's. Or I was going to do a 'home alone'. I said they could have me adopted. A bit of it was my fault, then, for dad spent his time moaning about me and mum spent her time trying to talk me round. That's how come we arrived in Nowheresville with only the one big hotel, the one where all the trekkie-geeks would meet, with no room left for us to stay.
After a lot of negotiation dad bummed us into this weird place on the edge of town.
We pulled up at the same time as this station wagon. A man stepped out the wagon and got to the front desk at the same time as us.
"I only got two small rooms left," explained this mad looking woman with the pop-out eyes; she was chewing gum, wearing way too much lip stick and had big pink hair.
Probably a wig, I decided.
One look round and you could see that hygiene was not this lady's thing. Beam me up, I thought.
Dad asked about put-me-up beds but they didn't have any, only a baby crib. The other customer, who was also travelling with his wife and teenager kid, was of a more practical cast of mind; he muttered something about 'making it worth her while'.
"Ah, well," said pop-out woman, "Let's see now .."
She pushed her chewing gum in one cheek and started shouting.
"Freddie! Freddie! Get your butt out here."
That's true. It's what she said. I mean, this was a grown up woman.
This guy clanked in from the back. He looked a year or so older than me, fifteen maybe. He'd got a woolly hat pulled down over his head. His denims were half way down his bum and were covered in chains and things. And he'd got piercings. Loads of 'em. I caught myself staring at him in horrid fascination. I call body piercing self abuse but when I said so at school the other guys laughed. Some people have no brains.
"Freddie. Any chance you could sleep over at Ricky's this weekend?"
Freddie shrugged and rubbed his nose ring while thinking about it. It made my skin crawl.
"S'pose."
"Go phone and check. "
Turning back to the olds, she went on, "So if you two couples take the two double rooms I could put your boys out in the trailer. Freddie usually sleeps out there in the summer but he can go over and sleep at his pal's place. Hopefully."
Hopefully NOT, I was thinking to myself. This establishment was looking less sanitary by the minute. I did NOT want to sleep in a bed that had recently been occupied by THAT nose picking creature. The boy returned.
"Well?"
"S'alright."
That's how it was arranged that I was to shack up with this boy I'd never met, in a trailer of dubious cleanliness. Some guys probably wouldn't mind that, might even think it was a great idea, but it did not appeal to me at all. I hadn't wanted to be here in the first place and I'd never shared a room with anyone. When you're thirteen you need your privacy. Well, don't you?
While this other boy, this Jake, headed back to his station wagon for his luggage, this Freddie character picked up my suitcase before I could protest and took me around the back, through a long, overgrown garden. At the end of the garden was the trailer, parked next to a few ill-attended fruit trees. Beyond it was an expanse of rough grass that led down to a pebbled beach. The trailer looked very isolated.
Boy was it stuffy inside! This could not be good for my health. OK, except for some junk on the table it wasn't as messy as I had expected. But it was tiny; it was going to be like living in a biscuit tin! When you went in, there was a shower cabinet and a toilet side by side opposite the door, a minuscule kitchen thing to the right and a sort of a living room to the left which had two benches running along the walls with the table between. Maybe it was my imagination, but to me it looked like slashes and burn marks on the plastic covering the bench seats, the carpet had what looked like an enormous bloodstain and the table had more chips on it than you would get with a big Mac. It looked like the ripper had carved up his victims there.
In his monosyllabic way Freddie showed me where things were, the tap to turn on the gas canister, the water tap, things like that. Then he grabbed a backpack out of the broom closet, took his CD case and player off the table and put it in the pack. Next he took the top off one of the benches. He wore his jeans so low I could actually see his crack as he bent over the bench, fishing out his clothes. I turned my head away in reflex, but not before I had noticed that Freddie wore no underwear. It really isn't sanitary, to have your bare ass touch the inside of your pants. And what if your dick still leaks a drop or so after peeing? I must admit though that closer up Freddie smelled surprisingly fresh, not as ripe as I had imagined when I saw him picking his nose ring. Anyway, he stuffed what clothes he could fit into the back pack, and headed back to the door.
"Lucky bastards, you two," he said on his way out.
Two, that's right. I had almost forgotten I was supposed to share this tin can with somebody else, some stranger I had never really met. Hopefully our beds would be far apart. Then it hit me. There were no beds in the trailer. I had assumed there'd be two beds, but where? I opened the door, planning to go find Freddie and ask him where we were supposed to sleep. As I opened the door, I almost bumped into this guy.
"Hey, man, I'm Jake," he announced.
I just stared. This fair haired guy, about my age, pushed past me into the trailer and dumped a back-pack down on the bench.
"So you met Freddie?" he went on. "Showed me the way over. Wonder if we could get him to smuggle a few beers over for us later? How cool is this going to be!"
I was about to comment that I didn't drink beer, but caught myself in time. I didn't want to seem a prude. Like it or not we were going to be room mates. Better to act cool for now. I just smiled back at him. Then I remembered. Freddie.
"I forgot to ask him about the beds, I can't find them."
"Don't sweat it, a whole friggin' bed can't be that hard to find," said Jake.
I was still pondering over the possible meaning of the word friggin' while Jake looked around the trailer. Then, with an exclamation, he went over to the partition wall and unhooked something that he then lowered into the room, out over top of the table.
"Hey! The bed."
It was a double bed, and this tin can certainly didn't have room for another bed anywhere.
"We're meant to sleep TOGETHER in the same bed?" I asked. Definitely not sanitary, I was thinking. Very risky. What if he had lice? "I guess it beats kipping on those narrow benches, hey? Sure, I'm game since you are.
We can get up to all sorts."
Whoa, hold on a minute, I was thinking to myself. That was a question. I didn't mean to say I WANTED to sleep together. I mean, I didn't want him to think that I was.... I was still struggling to find some appropriate response, when Jake blurted out "Man, is it ever hot in this thing. I'm sweating like a pig, been stuck in our stuffy wagon for hours, could really use a shower right about now. Freddie told me just to ask you to turn on the hot water."
"Yeah, he showed me," I answered, pointing to the little boiler tank and starting to explain to him how to turn on the water and gas. He waved his hand at me.
"You take care of that, eh man? I'd fuck it up."
I tried not to react. I mean, I'm old enough to have come across foul language before.
Some of the boys at school can be very crude. Not the more intelligent boys that I hang around with, of course. Well OK, you got me there. Guess I don't hang around that much with any of the other kids. They're so ... so immature.
While I turned on the water heater Jake fumbled with one of the windows, opened it up, still cussin' about the heat. Together we lifted the bed back up the wall. Next this Jake guy pulled his shirt over his head, right in front of me, without even turning around, . He sat down to take off his trainers and I did notice he had a good body, hard and lean, tapering to a real neat waist. I tried not to ogle as Jake stripped off his jeans and sat down in just a pair of tight, white briefs that were definitely too small for him.
He had what looked to me like a serious bulge.
Now just between you and me, I will admit that I enjoy the sight of guy bulges. Not in real life of course, I am not like THAT. I mean artistic stuff. In the same way, I am not a big fan of sports but I make an exception for divers in Speedos and some kinds of wrestlers - the kind that wear these neat little body suits, like Tarzan's.
But this boy's briefs? Everybody knows you've got to let your balls breathe. It's the whole point of balls. This idiot was strangling his. I did consider it my duty to point this out but it's such a delicate topic, and before I could think of a way to broach the subject, he stood up and strode past me. He went into the kitchen to check if the water was warming up. It was left to me to rush round closing all the trailer curtains.
You can't go striding about like that in your undies in full view of people. This biscuit tin had windows, didn't he know? So what if there was nobody around for several hundred yards?
"Water's still a bit cold," he announced and he went back to sit on the bench. He started unpacking, throwing his clothes, even his underwear, right on the table! Hold on, excuse me, we have to EAT off this table, I wanted to say. But I didn't. I was forbearing. We would have to get along, somehow. And at least his clothes looked like they were fresh from the laundry. I decided to be helpful.
"You can arrange your clothes inside the bench," I suggested.
"Cool, just like Dracula's lair" he said, as he dragged the seat of the bench to one side.
That's when I noticed that half of Freddie's clothes were still there. Jake didn't seem to care, just swept his clothes off the table into the bench. I was horrified at the thought of MY clothes ever getting mixed up with somebody else's like that. MY clothes were staying safely folded up inside my suitcase, I decided. Jake tested the water again. "Guess it's warm enough now" he announced.
"I could use a shower too, but the hot water tank is not very big, probably only enough water there for five minutes, ten minutes max," I warned him, hoping he would not take too long and leave some hot water for me.
"Sure. Hop in if you like. Don't want to hog it all," Jake answered.
I was totally flustered. I hadn't meant to suggest that we SHARE the shower. Now he would think for sure I was a ... well, you know.
Now, OK, maybe I was curious about... things, in a way, but that was my private business. It's not something you admit to, certainly not to a stranger, especially not one you're going to be cooped up with for days.
"I didn't mean..." I started to say, feeling my face turn hot in embarrassment.
"Oh, OK, I guess the shower IS kinda small," said Jake, not looking the least put out.
"I'll be quick," he promised.
In retrospect I wouldn't have minded checking out Jake's bulge but I would be sure to pop a boner. How embarrassing would that be? I mean he thought I'd already suggested sharing a shower and a bed. I heard the water go on and I looked around the trailer. There was all kinds of stuff left inside the other bench, Goth magazines, pencils, notebook, pocket knife, chains, all kinds of random junk and... would you believe this? a package of condoms!
When Jake came out the shower, I quickly closed the bench, somehow feeling guilty for rummaging through Freddie's stuff. Jake caught my attention instantly. He was nude, I mean totally nude. While he reached for a towel to dry his hair I was able to see everything. Everything. If it had been me I'd have died.
The beauty of it was that with his face wrapped inside his towel, I could stare at him unabashed, study his dick without him knowing it. I am a bit of a connoisseur on the matter, if I do say so myself, having made an extensive study of photographic art on the internet. Not the porno stuff, of course, just the arty stuff. But this was a chance for me to have a good look at the real thing. Live.
Jake's pubic hair was very fair so while I could see he had a good crop it wasn't all that noticeable. His penis was uncircumcised and seemed to be on the large side of average; of course a warm shower might account for that. His foreskin was unusually prominent; it was like a little raspberry balanced on the penis tip, large and crinkled and very red. His testicles hung loose, quite low, showing me that he was well into puberty. After he finally finished drying his head he lowered the towel and proceeded with the rest, apparently not caring the least that I could see him.
Only problem was, now he could see me too, and even though I was still fully dressed it was pretty obvious I was totally boned up. He didn't seem to notice, but at thirteen you know your hard-on is the only thing people will notice. I turned very red. Jake didn't make any move to dress but sat down on the bench opposite me and scratched at his crotch.
You into 'Star Trek'? he asked.
"God no!"
"Oh, thank fuck. Began to worry I was cooped up with some weirdo. You ain't told me your name, by the way. You a bit shy?"
"No. Course not. I'm Bill."
Reluctantly, I offered my hand (well, I knew where his had just been). But instead of shaking it, he slapped it. No worry though. I had seen boys do this previously. It's meant to be friendly. The towel fell open when he did this.
"Uh, you're towel is, uh, open," I pointed out.
"As they say, you see something you ain't seen before, you've got my permission to shoot it.".
"Ha, ha," I laughed, stalling while trying to think of some manly response. "Guess we're all built the same way, eh?"
"Hung, are you?"
Luckily we were interrupted by a voice from outside for I am sure I'd have turned beet red again.
"Billy! Billy, honey."
It was my mother shouting for me.
"Billy!" she repeated, more loudly. "Your father and I will expect you at seven. To go out for dinner."
Jake secured the towel round his waist, and headed for the door.
I raced after him worried about what mum would think.
Jake opened the trailer door with me arriving at his shoulder a step behind.
"Hi Mrs Bill's mum, I'm Jake. Actually, Bill and me, we're going to cut down to MacDonald's if that's OK?"
I saw mother's eyes widen.
At this point Jake must have given her a big, beaming smile for I saw her hesitate, smile nervously in return before she spoke again.
"Well, yes. Yes, I suppose. Fine."
As I watched mother go Jake reached behind and grabbed me by the balls.
"Hey!" I shouted, not sure if I felt just surprised or violated.
"Just checking," he said, with a big grin.
Checking what, if I was a boy, or maybe checking whether he was stuck with a faggot with a boner? God, I didn't mean to use the f word. Luckily mother's arrival had allowed my stiffie to subside a bit at least. And Jake, he was smiling broadly at me, not at all the look of some bully about to beat up on a ... well you know. This was awkward. I changed the subject.
"You sure there is a MacDonald's here?" I asked. "It's a pretty small place."
"Don't know but we don't want to get stuck with the olds, now do we? We guys have got to stick together. Cover for each other. Yeah?"
"Yeah," I agreed, happy to hear him consider me just one of the guys.
"So what are you waiting for?"
"Huh?"
"Weren't you going to shower?"
"Oh yeah," I answered, panicking but trying to sound off-hand. How was I going to shower without Jake seeing me naked? I would have to distract him.
"Do you wanna read while you wait? I noticed there were some, uh, some magazines over there."
I walked over to the other bench and lifted the top. Jake fished out a Goth magazine, with some Halloween character on the cover, and an address label pasted over top of the face.
"Weird," Jake commented, and sat down paging through the magazine.
I locked the trailer door, walked over to the other side, sort of hid behind the toilet and shower stalls in the middle, and stripped quickly, nervously. Why was my heart pounding in my throat? And worse, why was I getting a boner again? Poking my head past the stalls, I saw Jake's nose was buried in the magazine. Quickly I hopped into the shower and turned on the water.
After only about three minutes it suddenly turned ice cold. It was all I could do to close the tap without screaming. One good thing about the cold water was that it made my boner wilt. Damn! In my hurry I had forgotten to take a fresh towel with me. I just stood there, wet inside the shower, not knowing what to do.
"You done?" Jake shouted at me. Must have heard the water stop.
"Yep," I answered back.
There was an awkward silence.
"Got your towel?"
"Nope."
I was getting about as eloquent as Freddie, I realized to my shame.
"Here," said Jake as he swung a fresh towel over the shower door. Gratefully I grabbed it, dried myself inside the stall, secured the towel around my waist and gingerly stepped out.
Jake was right there, still wearing only a towel himself, and without warning he pulled the towel off my waist.
"Hey!" I protested, instantly furiously red, reaching to take back my towel.
"Just checking!" laughed Jake, as he gave back the towel without a fight. "Nice kit."
He winked at me. I know I went bright scarlet but I must confess I was also a bit made up. A boy, what I'd call a boy's boy, had copped a look at my cock and complimented it. Then the worrying started in again.
I rushed over to the other side of the toilet stall, pulled up a fresh pair of underwear under my towel, and proceeded to get dressed. Was that Jake ever getting on my case.
What was he checking me for again? Did I have the word "faggot" stamped on my forehead? God, I've used the "f" word again. Things must be getting on my nerves. I would have to be very, very careful around my trailer mate, give no cause to his suspicions. Walking back to the kitchen I saw Jake sitting there, dressed now, putting on his trainers. I also got my shoes on and we cut across the field, onto the beach and headed into the town.
It was when we came back that we found the note.