Dylans Dilemma

It begins with both of us basically wanting the same thing... hot, gay, boy, sex. I submit to him, sure... but in the beginning it's a mutual endeavor, me positioning myself for him to have an easy entry into my body, then a bit later our statuses change some. Usually his hard penis with the dripping, swollen head has some difficulty pushing past my sphincter muscle, my tight ring. The Vaseline helps, and I'm helping too. I want to feel him inside of me, at least as much as he wants to be in there, so I continue making myself available and doing what he tells me to do.

Of course, his fat cock always has it's way eventually, forcing past the stubborn ring and into my asshole. The usual pain ensues and then some additional hurt as he relentlessly pushing that engorged organ steadily up my tunnel. As it proceeds, the foreskin of his uncut penis pulls back, fully exposing the head, even as the head's expanding in response to the sensation of my tight tunnel. The entire length of his boner experiences the tightness of my ring as it passes through my hole on it's way up inside me... that excites the boner part of him, and in turn, him.

Yes... some pain, but for me it's the pleasure I concentrate on. It easily overwhelms the pain and, anyway... soon the pain goes somewhere else and only the pleasure remains. Ooooh, the pleasure, always the luscious pleasure. I do love it so much... a hard, long boner up inside me. It feels real good. He retracts his erected penis till just the head is caught by my sphincter ring and then he methodically plows back up inside me again for another tentative go of it. By the third or forth thrust he's encouraged that he's probably got me already... another hump up and back, and there it is... I moan with the pleasure of it. Air hissing out between his teeth as he also enjoys the ride.

That hot feeling, and the visual of my hole swallowing his entire boner, so very tightly ... it makes him roll his head back and moan. Then again retraction, followed this time with an easier and slightly quicker drive back up inside me till his nut sac smacks against my right buttock. Again, and it's sliding quite easily now. Yes, I'm captured... he has me fully under his control... there isn't any turning back for me. A quick three full humps in and out and then a smooth couple of slower ones, just for the hell of it.

And so, now it's not really a mutual thing anymore. I more or less belong to him for a little while... just till he's done with me. He's in the grip of it... the feeling has him and he'll be insisting on finishing it. He has very little choice actually... we're young and the feeling's still new enough and strong enough that stopping isn't really an option when you get this far along. He pumps my ass confidently now... he knows it's not a mutual thing anymore, just like I do.

To prove it he smacks my ass and roughly moves me over a few steps to a position more to his liking. He's in charge... he rules. Then six extra hard humps up inside me and another smack, just to prove it further. I gulp with the full realization that my ass belongs to him. I couldn't get out of this if I wanted to, which I don't. "Fuck my ass, fuck me!"

He maybe hears my plea, but mainly he's into his own world of pleasure. Other things are forgotten as he again does the quiet moan, humping me a little faster... that unique feeling in his cock has overtaken all of his other senses. It's no longer a matter of... "hey, this will be fun and feel good"... no, he "needs" it now. His hands grip my hips tight enough to let me know I'm not going anywhere, and then later his hands are on my shoulders, pulling me onto his hot, dripping cock harder and faster and harder still. He's grunting with the effort of every penetration now and I'm bumped about and jostled as needed for his pleasure. I start grunting with each of his grunts. He snaps out, "Grab the towel bar and stay bent over, god damnit". Both my hands grab on and hold the towel bar tightly with my legs trembling causing me to move from side to side a little.

When he feels it's necessary, he grabs a handful of my hair, pulling my head back so that my adams apple protrudes from the front of my throat... he's simply instructing me, insisting actually, that I stay still, in place, so he can fuck my ass the way he wants to... it's nothing against me personally... he cares only how his boner feels. The blood of his body is mostly located in his groin area now and the "feeling" is on him hot and heavy. He's getting hotter and hotter as his balls tighten up into hard marbles. The pressurized sperm is readying itself to blast out of their confined space in his nuts, up his hard penis, and out the expanded slit at the top of his cock to splatter my guts with creamy teen cum. As he gets closer and closer it's... smack, smack, smack, smack on my ass... just because he's approaching that moment and he's excited about it, and because he feels like smacking my ass.

My own personal unique feeling has me gasping for air too, and then I can't hold myself off any longer... I need to grab the boner that's been bobbing in front of me for the last ten minutes... letting go of the bar with my right hand, and grabbing that boner with my fist, stroking it fast, five times. At the same time blowing a spray of spit through tightly closed lips to relieve the pressure building up in me... reveling in the thrill of the feeling, the thrill of the expectation of climax. It's all made possible by him, my ass, and by my precious boner. My hard penis that I love... that piece of me that gives me such great pleasure.

Masturbating while getting fucked is the ultimate double-dipping rush, the ultimate erotic thrill for me. My foreskin pulls back off the head of my cock and my pee slit quivers.. out pops three drops of precum that's quickly spread over the head as the sheath of foreskin closes over it and then pulls back off again.

More precum and I match the stroking of my cock with his humps up inside me. The stroking of my six inch, steel hard, boner is synchronized with his fantastically hard boner's deep humps up inside my asshole. I stare at my hard cock as my hand strokes it over and over and over, faster and faster and faster... more saliva drips from my lips and rolls down my chin as my tongue whips around the back of my teeth, over my lips and against the roof of my mouth. So many sensation in my hole... all being stimulated with every hump in and out by his hard, fat cock. That one special spot inside my hole keeps getting hit over and over and I'm groaning and whimpering, "Fuck me harder..."

He again grabs a handful of my hair and roughly pulls my head towards him while he's making squeaking sounds, or maybe he's telling me to do something... both of us are aware we can't be loud because my Mom is sleeping two doors down, but oh my God... it feels so good I want to scream it out to the world. He owns me right now of course, but I wouldn't want it any other way. "Fuck me... fuck me" I murmur and he does, he does. We're both almost there and the sound of his rapid humps into me resembles the earlier sound of him smacking my ass with his hand. He lets go of my hair because he needs to hold onto my hips with both hands... now it's his crotch against my sweaty, bare ass cheeks making the wet smacking sound... "splat,splat,splat,splat,splat,splat" fast, and getting faster, approaching a frantic speed... with me barely able to say "yes,yes,yes, yes,yes" with every hard, deep hump.

I know the time is here, although I want it to go on longer... but it's my time. Then it happens, my nuts get tight against my body and I squeal into the towels on the rack as cum shoots up from both nuts and flies out my expanded pee slit... it's a super nova in my head, and then it acts the way a fireworks display does, POW! the blast, followed by it spreading out into an exciting design and it gets bigger and bigger.

That's my climax... EXPLOSION and then that indescribably delicious feeling spreads out all over my body, reaching to the top of my scalp and down my legs till it makes my toes curl up tight. I shake and shudder and then a smaller super nova as the second shot of cum leaves my body... and it's followed by a smaller spreading display and a third little one with me still whimpering with pleasure....my body tingling all over.

He had his too, probably when I clamped shut my ring causing the extra pressure on his already over-stimulated sex organ... I'm not sure the exact second he exploded up inside me because my senses were busy with my own super nova, but I know he had it because his cum is on my ass cheeks, inside my asshole, and running down the inside of both my thighs ... and I can hear him trying desperately to get oxygen into his lungs. He pulls out of me shortly after his climax cause we're short on time... and now I don't belong to him any more. Now we're partners again and we want to keep bodily contact with each other for a little longer... it's a shared experience like no other, and also, because we're grateful for one another.

Then, he's gone... and I have to clean up. It's always me who has to clean up the spunk... on the base of the toilet, how'd it get there?... and on the shower curtain, on the bottom of the tub, and there's some on the tile floor too. I grab yesterday's shower towel from the hamper and wipe my ass of the extra Vaseline. Then I use that same towel to wipe all my cum off everything... lastly, I arrange the towel in the hamper so that, hopefully, Mom won't notice the cum when she does the wash.

All is well except... Oh no! I see the little clock sitting on the top of the toilet tank. Shit! Is that the right time? The shower has been running all this time and the room is steamy so I wipe the mist off the face of the clock and, sure enough, I'm late. I figured the noise of the shower would block out the sound of me getting fucked... didn't want to wake Mom, but it caused steam to obscure the face of that little clock and I can see I'm going to be late.

Jumping in the tub, under the full flow of warm water I wash, wash, wash... my finger first. Then a quick shampoo and some body gel... gotta hurry. Spend some time cleaning my ass, it's not really sore so I force a little washcloth up my hole, clean, clean, clean... it wouldn't do to have a Vaseline stain leak through my blue jeans right at my hole. That's not what I need. Lastly, pulling back the foreskin I clean the head of my penis real good. The sensitivity I felt there five minutes ago is greatly reduced and the foreskin slides back over the precious head to protect it. I love my uncut penis so much.

OK, enough of that, I'm late... turn off the water, grab a clean towel and dry off fast. No time to spike my hair this morning so I comb it flat on top and up in front. The sun shining in the the little window over top of the shower curtain hit's my hair just right and shows up the lighter blond highlights in my already light blond hair. I stare at it thinking, "How cool". In Chem class there's a boy sitting in front of me with bright red hair and his hair has natural light highlights too... light red ones. We joke around about who has the best looking, hottest hair in the school... we both agree it's one of us two, no one else is even under consideration. Ha ha ha! What the fuck am I wasting time with that for?...I'm late!

I grab my clean boxers off the hook on the bathroom door and put them on as I hurry the five steps to my bedroom. Drag a light-weight Patriots sweatshirt over my head, pull on socks and squeeze into old blue jeans that are clean, but have rips here and there, in just the right places to be cool! Struggle to button those old jeans... I'm slim, but those things shrunk over the years from being washed so much. Then my sneakers and I'm ready... wait, where's my fucking Math homework? Now I'm really going to be late and he's waiting for me outside right now.

DYLAN'S DILEMMA

by donny mumford

What a beautiful peaceful morning. Did you know that in New England we sometimes don't have a Spring season. It goes from Winter right into Summer, but today is the exception to that. It's as if it's the first day of Spring, actually a Spring-like day. The middle of March and there's bright blue, sunny skies with hardly any wind... and, better yet, a forecast of temperatures reaching the fifties by this afternoon. Nice... that's as good as it gets in Massachusetts, in March. So, the weather is certainly a fine surprise, but what happened to us on the way to school was not fine and not particularly a surprise.. The sad fact is, where Chubby and I live, no matter the weather, getting beat-up isn't really considered a surprise.

More like... it's a possibility, and we all know that,

but tempting fate increases the chances of it happening significantly. Taking the short cut to school down Circle Avenue is "tempting fate". If I could have found my homework faster this morning Chubby and me wouldn't have had to use that short cut and therefore, we wouldn't have run into the infamous Chavez brothers. We figured we were lucky to survive getting past their brown and black German Sheppard with it's bared, shark's teeth, it's head as big as a watermelon, and it's scary loud deep throaty growl ...

us separated from the beast by the flimsiest of ropes. Almost peed myself when it came charging down the driveway. Chubby yelled, "Oh, Dear Mother of God!" when that monster hit the end of the rope, two feet from us, and flipped over on it's broad back. Too bad it didn't break it's fucking neck. It got right back up to begin barking loud enough to wake the dead.

As we quickly jogged away an old lady screeched out, "Stop teasing that dog!! Fucking kids in this neighborhood!!" Chubby and me exchanged terrified looks and then he silently mouths "This is your fault, Dylan". I nodded to acknowledge that it was, and we started running hard... we're almost off Circle Avenue and onto the main drag when that fat fuck, Freddy Chavez, sticks his foot out and trips Chubby. I didn't even see the prick sitting there on a stool in front of his car, waxing it or, who knows what he was doing. Freddy says, "Oops, the little fairy fell down and got a boo boo" and then he yells, " Chico, get the fuck out here. Some smart asses are teasing our old lady's dog again".

Chubby had gone down hard and slid on the cement sidewalk four feet. His jeans ripped at both knees, blood already seeping out of the brush burns. Chubby yelled, "You mother fucker, Chavez!" and then here comes Freddy's brother, Chico. "What'd you call him, faggot?" a round-house punch bounces off Chubby's skull with a hollow "thunk". I jump on Chico's back, grabbing him around his dirt-ringed neck with one hand and going for his eyes with the other. Freddy rushes up behind me to give me two hard punches in my ribs. The first one knocked the wind out of me, and then he drags me off his brother and, lucky me, another punch in the softest part of my belly, followed by a hard shove up against his car... then I flop down on the sidewalk seeing stars and trying to get my breathing started back up. Chub is just laying there. I'm thinking, "I need to start breathing soon".

Chico's voice from the vacuum of space says, "Check the fuckers pockets, Freddy. That skinny shithead scratched the door of my car when he stumbled into it.

I ain't paying for that, we'll get the money off them. Both Chubby and I were wearing tight dungarees and Freddy's fat hand couldn't get in our pockets so he pulled off our sneakers and then pulled off our dungarees. Chub's jeans were just big enough around the waist to come off with a couple of tugs on the pant legs. Mine were old and too tight for me so with the Chavez brothers each holding onto a leg of my jeans, they dragged me half way down the block, laughing like mad, before they could get the jeans to pull off over my hips. My head bouncing on the cracked sidewalk with each new pull and drag, then... a huge intake of air into my lungs and I was breathing again... thank God!

In the struggle my boxers got half pulled off... that seemed to interest Chico. He came back towards me, panting a little with his tongue licking around his lips. He hesitated a second and then reached down to grab my boxers at the waist band. I said, "No, don't" just before he ripped them off me. His eyes got big and shiny... absorbing the image of my soft cock and shrunken nuts, then he seemed to snap out of it. Looking in the direction of sirens sounding, while groping his crotch he mumbled, "What the fuck...?".

Someone had dropped a dime on the Chevez boys' shenanigans and we could hear police sirens in the background. Freddy motioned with his head for Chico to get in the car. After throwing our dungarees in the back seat, they casually drove down the street right past the police car as it flew by them in the opposite direction, it's lights flashing and siren blaring.... the dumb fucks. The cops almost drove right by us too... and for all the good they did, they might as well have. But, they slammed on the breaks and backed up to where we were sprawled out on the littered sidewalk.

They looked at us, then looked all around... just sitting there on their fat asses in the cruiser. After a moment checking out the scene, they both went back to staring blankly at Chubby and me some more. The black cop said something to the white one... they both chuckled and then with bemused looks on their faces they called for an ambulance. Chubby was sitting up by now, holding his head in both hands, blood drooling from a cut in back. I was taking off my shirt so I could cover my dick. Both the cops eventually put a hand over their mouth laughing, at me I guess.

When the cops finally dragged themselves out of the cruiser we told them exactly what happened and who did it, but before we were even in the ambulance there were three people from the neighborhood telling them a totally different story. They said we were teasing that nice dog and cursing at the old lady who owned it and when her son's tried to get us to move along, the little one... pointing at Chubby, took a swing at Freddy. Two of the liars were adults and one was a teenager with cornrows who kept giving Chubby and me the finger whenever the cops weren't looking his way.

What a cluster fuck that whole scene was. I asked the cops indignantly, "Do you actually believe a word of this BS? Who would pick a fight with the Chavez brothers? Us two? Look at us." and I pointed at little Chubby and skinny me, "Are you serious?" He said it's our word against their word. One of the paramedics gave me a hospital blue pajama bottom to wear... then I called my Mom on the guy's cell phone. That would have been the end of this nightmare except Chubby passed-out on the way to the hospital, so it continued. All I could think of as I watched the paramedic give Chubby oxygen was the sound Chico's huge fist made when it connected with Chubby's head and then the "bonk" when the back of Chubby's head hit the sidewalk.

At the hospital I was taken for an XRAY of my ribs, which turned-out negative. I didn't even have a broken rib, just bruises from the three punches to my body. They hurt, and were turning yellowish purple, and I had cuts on the back of my head from being dragged on the sidewalk, but I was OK.

Chubby was being examined for a concussion, and other things I suppose. Sitting in the waiting room looking for our Moms to arrive, I thought about me and Chubby.

He's been my best friend all my life. I have memories of Chubby from about age five. We played together every day and slept together many nights until about age ten. Jeffery Romero is Chubby's real name, but I've never called him that. He got his nickname as a toddler, mostly because he wasn't... wasn't chubby, I mean... he was skinny. Chubby and me both just turned seventeen year old which makes us the two youngest juniors at Framingham High School. That's our only claim to fame, being the youngest juniors in town. Yep, the big, big town of Framingham,

Massachusetts. It sucks actually.

My Mom and his Mom have been best friends forever and now Chubby and me are too. I'd guess our moms both must be about thirty-five by now... I know they were both pregnant with Chubby and me at age seventeen. I get to officially be a "bastard", literally... my Mom never married the boy who made her pregnant. He's still in the Navy as far as anyone knows. I learned, years ago, that he'd been under the impression Mom was going to abort me... obviously, she didn't. That's mostly because she found out that Tris had gotten knocked up with Chubby around then too, and those two best friends, with all the wisdom of teenage girls, thought it would be fun to have babies at the same time. Jesus, that was a close call for me, so ta speak.

Anyway, the Hispanic boy who is Chubby's father married Tris, but died on the steps outside their apartment right after Chubby was born. Man, what a way to start and end a life. Chubby's Dad died from an aneurysm, in the brain. It's sad, but he went out to get the newspaper one morning, sat down on the curb, wet his pants and then passed-out after asking the mailman, "What's happening to me?" Chubby was one week old. Apparently aneurysms are a real bitch. Chubby carries a picture in his wallet of his Dad holding him at two days old. Amazing how good looking and how young his Dad is in that picture. He was as old then as Chubby and I are now... guess he always will be too. Like I said, sad. Feeling shitty sitting there in the hospital waiting room, I took a deep breath and thought, "The wallet with that picture is in the hands of those cretin Chavez brothers right now".

Interrupting my thoughts was a ruckus at the emergency room entrance where paramedics were wheeling in accident victims. It seems relatives of the accident victims didn't appreciate how long it took to get the survivors here. Lots of yelling and cursing and two men go down on the floor fighting. Jesus! this place sucks the big one. I get up and move way to the other side of the room near an old woman moaning with another old woman patting the moaning woman's hand. Delightful. Let's see, where was I?... oh yeah, thinking about Chubby and my daily schedule.

Frankly, until just now I never thought we had a schedule? Hmmm? Well, our school days goes like this... every day we wait for each other in front of our double-decker duplex and walk to school together. On the way we share two Marlboro cigarettes, passing one back and forth till it's done. Then we walk for another ten blocks and do it again with the other cigarette. After school we work on the school newspaper for an hour, then come home, say hello to our Moms and then we go out again, rain or shine... for our run. We do a four mile run along the trail through Parker's Park every week day and sometimes on the weekend too.

The daily four mile run takes about an hour and we come back to my place for cokes and snacks and talk some more with our Moms before they go to work. They work as waitresses at Renny's Bar and Grille, mostly in the bar cause they get bigger tips there. They work from four pm until midnight so Chubby and me are on our own then. Both of our Moms are smiley ladies... happy and chatty and always ready to laugh and always supportive of Chubby and me.... they think we "rock". Not too many others think that, but we're glad they do. When they leave for work, we do our homework. Chubby is smart in Math and I'm smart in English so we help each other.

Thinking about this is keeping my mind off worrying about Chubby... sort of. I'm realizing how much we're a part of each other. As far back as age six there are pictures of us two on the beach, in our too big, baggy, boarder bathing suits, hugging each other with our skinny arms, our heads together and smiling like our lives depended on it. Chubby likes being in close proximity of me at all times... that was true back then, and it's still true to this day. I don't mind, but I guess sometimes I wouldn't mind if he wasn't so close to me so much. Of course now that he's hurt, I wish he was right here next to me.

I gotta laugh at Chubby... he's so funny with this togetherness thing. He insist it has to be his way when we're watching TV. Both of us need to sit in that barkolounger recliner and he takes my right arm and pulls it around him so that the back of his neck is resting on my bicep, then he holds or pats my hand. This would be so freaking odd to most guys, I know that! ... but we've been watching TV together this way for thirteen years. Same recliner all thirteen years too. Chubby gets a hurt look whenever I try to change any of our routines, watching TV or anything else. Hell, I like the feel of him next to me anyway... it's nice that he wants to be close to me. We're tighter then brothers.

We've never had a discussion about "sexuality", our's or anybody elses. Chubby has to be a leading candidate for being gay though, especially because of some other things he does. As for me, I'm something like "gay", I guess... but not gay for Chubby. I say "something like gay" because when I masturbate I have this elaborately detailed fantasy about being fucked by some mystery boy. No age, no face, no particulars at all... just "someone" really screwing my ass hard.

For the last two years I've been fingering my own hole while I jerk off... thinking about that hot fantasy. Thinking about that right now gets my dick stiff. Can't wait to do it tonight or tomorrow morning, maybe both times. I jerk-off alone. I have no desires for Chubby to finger my hole or do anything else involving sex... with Chubby, that is. For that matter, I've no desire to have sex with any boy or girl I've ever met. If it weren't for that one fantasy of mine about some boy fucking me, I'd call myself asexual..neutral, or whatever is the proper term for a sexless boy. But, since I do have that fantasy, I call myself "something like gay"... I don't know what the "something" is.

Chubby on the other hand... well, he does want to be connected to me in a sexual way... although it's only in a peripheral way on my part. It goes like this... once he's situated on the recliner with me he'll do that cuddling and holding my hand routine I mentioned... we'll watch TV for a bit and then he'll squirm around so that he's straddling my leg and he begins the slightest humping of his crotch against my thigh... he'll fuck my thigh until he grunts, humps hard against me a few times, then cums in his pants. I feel his short stubby boner pounding my leg and his hot, short breaths moistly spraying on my neck with each ejaculation spurt in his pants. This has happened a couple times a week for the past three years.

When he first did it I was too surprised, and I guess embarrassed, to say anything about it. Then somehow it got to be an entire week of him doing it without me saying anything, and then two weeks and so on. It was as though it was too late to mention it after a while, and in three years it has never been mentioned directly... which is weird, but true. Right after he climaxes he snuggles against me and hugs me and moans for a bit enjoying the feel of it all, I guess. Then, he'll wiggle around to his original position and go back to using my arm as his pillow.

Some nights, after he cums, and he's situated back in his original position he'll say something like, "Dylan, we're not queer ya know" and I'll say, "Of course we're not, Chub, why would you even say that?" and he always says something like, "we're the closest buddies ever, we're not homos" and I'll say a variation of what I said ten seconds earlier. That usually satisfies Chubby as he lays next to me in that recliner, the cum spot on his pants slowly spreading. Next, Chubby will have some obscure factoid to tell me about in an effort to change the subject ... like, "Dylan, did you know the only domestic animal not mentioned in the Bible is the cat?" I'll go, "No shit, I didn't know that."

Honestly, I don't get sexually stimulated even a little bit by his dry-hump-fuck, or whatever it is. I love Chubby more than a brother and I want to help him enjoy himself... it's harmless. When he turns over to hump my thigh I make sure I keep my body loose and still. I don't want to tighten-up or he might think I'm rejecting him or something. Other than that, we have no explicit sex together...we've never jerked off together or sucked each other off or anything other than just that dry hump of Chubby's. Well, for Chubby, there are two other things I guess you'd have to say are sexual, but not for me. Me personally... I've never had any kind of sex at all.. I mean, that involves someone other than myself.

I've seen Chubby's penis a million times, just as many times as he's seen mine. Peeing, or changing, or bathing... we're not bashful around each other. Neither of us are cut, and let's see... Chubby has a smaller one than me, but not tiny or anything. Mine is a nice six inches and his is somewhat this side of five inches I'd have to say. Both our dicks are regular width with regular nuts and all that...regular pubic patches for our slight teen bodies. I've never wanted to suck either of our dicks, but we do have nice looking ones, even if I do say so myself. You know... no fat veins or bends or weird abnormalities. They look in proportion to our bodies and are just fine looking, uncut dicks... what can I say, they look cool actually. Mine's a great one to jerk-off with, I can assure you of that..

Our bodies are both slim. Chubby is short at about five foot six and I'm five foot ten. I like to think we have runner's bodies. Nice regular teen definition and smooth torsos... no hair except a bit under our arms. Chubby is half Hispanic and half Italian so he has a kind of swarthy tan flesh tone, very healthy looking in my opinion. I'm the opposite... being of Irish and English descent, I'm pale... actually a little pasty looking in the winter. I get some color in the sun of summer. Frankly, I wish my skin tone was like Chub's. I have light blond hair and Chubby's is dark brown. We both have brown eyes. He could probably describe me much better than I can because he's always staring at me... gets on my nerves sometimes, but now I wish he was right here, healthy and fit, staring at me to his heart's content.

Chubby is also kind of delicate looking. Small facial features, small ears, very white teeth and as I've mentioned, that dark brown, thick, silky hair. I guess most people would say he's attractive... I don't really pay much attention to how guys look... any guy, not just Chubby. I don't look at girls at all either, totally uninterested. As for me... I'll just say that I know I'm very nice looking, but I don't put much stock in my looks. Looks are fine as far as they go, but don't count for much in the long run.

What the hell is going on now? .. there's loud talking at the emergency room door again and I looked over to see Mom and Tris bustling through... walking right past me, on a mission, heading for the reception desk. I get up and call out to them... hugs all around when they see me and my Mom has dungarees for me to change into. They both talk at once, but I get my story about the fight out and as soon as they know I'm OK they storm the reception desk. Tris has tears in her eyes and curse words in her mouth. She's insisting she see a doctor about Chubby immediately. My mom chimes in and pretty soon there's shouting and name calling. Shortly, out comes some authority figure who, after more shouting, calms Mom and Tris down.

They tell me to stay put, they're both going inside to see how Chubby's doing. I'd like to go too, but no one under eighteen is allowed for some stupid reason. I put the dungarees on in the lavatory and then go outside to smoke... stay put, my ass. I'm scared for Chubby if you want to know the truth... he's been in there almost an hour and a half and I wonder what all the shouting was about..I'm worried. Who wouldn't be?..

Every five minutes or so I'd get up to wander around the waiting room thinking, "Where are they? What are they doing back there?" This waiting... and not knowing, it's brutal. Outside for another smoke, back inside again, thinking about the odd things Chubby and I do. Some of them are so bizarre I have to laugh out loud. Get this... Chubby, entering puberty, began growing hair on his legs and I didn't have any yet. That wouldn't do in Chubby's brain. Oh my God, he hated it! So, he started shaving his legs. He didn't want hairy legs if I didn't have them too. I use to laugh like crazy, but it wasn't so funny when he'd nick himself badly... blood, scabs. It was sad, and ugly, man.

Well, he nagged me for a few weeks and I gave in and started shaving his legs for him, without the cuts ...this was back when we were twelve, I think.. or maybe thirteen... and, Jesus, we're still doing it once or twice a week right up to the present. He shaves mine and I do his. Chubby rationalizes everything... he goes, "Dylan, this is what the guys on the swim team do" and I say, "Yeah, Chub, I know that... but we're not on the swim team" and he says, "yeah, I know that too... but if we were, this is what we'd have to do anyway" and I say, "Yeah, but you can't swim". And then we laugh and Chubby spouts out a factoid, like, "Did you know, Dylan, that the 'dot' over the small letter 'i' is called a tittle." He's dead serious. I say, "No shit! I didn't know that." Damn, he makes me laugh..

It's still a ritual with us now... the leg shaving. We did it last night as a matter of fact. We wear only jockey shorts for the leg shaving. I wet his leg thoroughly from his crotch to his ankles first...and then smooth on the shaving cream and shave all around and up and down with a safety razor. We both take our time doing it because we pride ourselves on not nicking the other guy. Chubby takes short quick breaths throughout the entire process.

When I'm finished with one leg Chubby pulls up his jockey underwear at the top of that leg very tightly and, out of breath, says, "Can you get this too Dylan?" It's just the bottom part of his pubes, which he insist is leg hair. When I'm shaving there I feel his hard nuts and boner. Chubby usually cums in his underpants before I've finished the second leg. He did last night too. So, damn... that's one of the other things that qualifies as some sort of sex act that I alluded to regarding Chubby earlier.... oh, well, the kid's just enjoying his boners. He has lots of boners. Lucky fellow. None of the boner action happens with me... unfortunately.

We share a cigarette, not really talking much, and then Chub will do my legs. I don't pull my underwear up so Chubby does it for me and shaves the lowest portion of my pubes too. Honest to God, the feeling of air on shaved legs, or of taking a shower with shaved legs is awesome. After four or five days, Chubby brings it up, "Dylan, your legs feel stubbly. I'll shave then for you." I always say, "Oh man, thanks Chubby. I'll do your's too" and he says, "If you insist". I love the kid, but not as a sex object.

If he were here, and we talked about shaving our legs, he'd have a five inch boner right quick... he's so funny like that. Chubby and his boners, man!

Chubby has a real fetish too... maybe leg shaving is a fetish, I really don't know if it is. His real fetish though is a foot fetish, which I've Googled and find it isn't really the rarest fetish of all time, although it's pretty weird! Anyway, Chubby loves my feet. When I'm on my computer he'll sit down at my feet and, after a minutes, starts in with his rationalizations, "Dylan, you don't take care of your feet. We run over four miles every day, but you still take your feet for granted." While he says that he's unlacing my Nike's. He pulls off my socks saying, "You need a foot massage. Who else but me would do this for you Dylan?" I say, "No one but you Chubby" and he says, "Fucking A, nobody else would do it" And, as he starts rubbing them he'll say, "You got long thin feet, Dylan." and he'll massage for awhile, which is a nice feeling... then I soon feel his tongue on the bottom of my foot and then his quivering nostrils against some part of my foot as he inhales my foot odor.

Ya know, foot fetish or not... it feels fucking great to have your feet massaged. I let Chub play with my feet anytime he wants to. Most days it's foot massage, then noisy inhaling my foot odor, then licking the soles, and lastly sucking on my toes. Chub can do that for half an hour with his boner poking out the front of his pants the entire time. Later, he further rationalizes his behavior with details of podiatrist and how widespread the need for foot care actually is, especially in third world countries... and, he says, " There are one trillion bacteria on each of your feet... trillion, not billion." or he'll say, "look how I take care of you, Dylan. It's a good thing one of us pays attention to this shit." I always tell him "thanks, you're my best friend ever" and he says, "Fucking A, I am". Some times he acts pissed off when he says it... I don't know why.

I gotta laugh to myself again because he's such an original. Other than those things, Chub and me are just like every seventeen year old in school.. ha ha ha... other than those minor few things. But enough already... I get up and wander around the waiting room contemplating another cigarette. I mean, I'm getting a little tired of going over all these memories in my head. What I really want to know is,"when the hell can we get out of here?" This waiting and not knowing anything is fucking torture...

Then, just like that... there the three of them were, signing out at the desk. Hooray! Over I go and Chub sees me and beams a million dollar smile at me. Damn, I got a tear in my eye. Didn't realize until right that second how afraid I was that he was seriously hurt...and how much I actually care for that little pain in the ass. Damn, I'm wiping my eyes with the heel of my hands and Chubby is telling me, " Everything's going to be alright, Dylan. Don't worry, I'm OK". We hugged like we use to do on the beach as little boys, so many years ago. Tris says, "Come on you two. You're both alright, thank God! Let's get the hell out of here. The cars around the corner in a no parking zone." "What a surprise" piped up Chubby.

From the hospital we went directly to the police station... the Moms were pissed-off. They storm in the station with Chubby and me standing back, exchanging looks like, "Oh fuck, I'm glad they're not pissed at us". Our Moms don't take shit from anybody. They ranted at the desk and raised all kinds of hell about the way the two cops handled things. It took some doing, but our Moms were finally pacified and the four of us went back to our place for brunch... the hell with school today. The talk at brunch was about getting even with the Chavez brothers, but that petered out with silly suggestion of mayhem on Circle Avenue. Mayhem, my ass... we knew goddamn well we couldn't pull any of that shit off.

The next day we got our dungarees back, Chubby's with rips in the knees. He got his wallet and picture of him and his Dad back too, but the four dollars from the wallet was missing. Later that week a judge ordered a restraining order... no member of the Chevez family could come within fifty feet of Chubby or me. Chubby mumbled, "Oh fuck, I feel so safe now, except for the minor fucking detail that I'm pretty sure the Chavez boys can shoot somebody in the nuts from fifty feet away, never mind the head". We decided not to take the Circle Ave shortcut ever again.

All that week Chubby played up the head injury/concussion angle to get me to sleep with him upstairs in their place. He has a double bed, but we only used about a twin bed's worth of that double. He was tight on me with this rationalization, "Dylan, I only feel safe right now being close to you. You know, after the way you attacked Chico when he punched me... getting my back like that, protecting my ass. It's only fucking natural I should feel this way.... anyone who suffers my type of severe head injury under similar circumstances would feel the same way." I said "Oh for sure, dude. No problem." And there wasn't one either. Just before going to sleep Chubby whispered, "Dylan, did I tell you about the eye of an ostrich's? It's fucking eye is bigger than it's brain? I read that in the Globe this morning at the hospital. Can you believe that shit?" I go, "Uh huh!".

The days passed with us more or less maintaining our routine. It was real comfortable living our life that way. Chubby making me laugh was the only truly unexpected part of our day. Chubby making me laugh was usually quite unintentional on his part, which makes it even funnier. The two of us spent an hour on the school newspaper most days after school and not surprisingly, the newspaper was a cliquey operation, a lot of school activities are.

Of course, Chub and I were on the outside of that clique, as we were on the outside of all cliques in the school, but so are most kids. When I think about it, we belong to the biggest clique of all... the one where members don't belong to any clique. I work on the newspaper because my English teacher sort of pushed me onto the staff of reporters. Chubby isn't actually on the staff at all, he's the supplies and advertisements coordinator for different clubs, as well as the school newspaper. He mostly hangs out at the newspaper because I'm there.

The "editor" of the paper is a mean spirited, senior boy who I'm sure is gay... his name is Carl Denton. He picked on me before our fight with the Chavez brothers, but afterward his interest in me intensified and he assigned me to write a story about the mugging which I didn't want to do. I'm all about letting sleeping dogs lie, so I do not want to stir those Chavez assholes up. Today he called me into his office and asked to read what I've done so far on that assignment. Part of my English grade is the mark he gives me so I can't just say, "go fuck yourself" which I'd like to do, so I bit my lip and kept a puzzled look on my face. Carl's a heavy... well, let's make that "fat" boy, about six foot-four inches tall... so this is a big kid. His most noticeable characteristic would have to be his halitosis... it can make you lose your lunch if you aren't careful.

He says, "Oh no, Dylan, don't tell me that you don't have some story for me today. Don't tell me that again, OK?" I told him I was sorry, but I couldn't get started on it... "I've got writer's block where that mugging is concerned". Squinting at me, he said something about my problem being closer to a laziness issue than a writer's block one. Carl was talking and acting especially weird today and instead of being behind his little desk he was standing in front of it, with me in between him and the desk. He's an overly dramatic person who considers himself a talented mimic and I think he was impersonating someone famous that he assumed I'd recognize. I had no clue who.

He kind of towered over me and leaned the roll of fat around his waist against my skinny stomach, up near my nipples. Just leaning on me slightly he said, "Tell me about it." I took a deep breath and looked away saying, "The fight was a highly traumatic experience and writing about it is scary". He said, "Have you ever seen the movie, " Beautiful Thing?" What that had to do with anything was a mystery to me, although I had seen it on cable with Chubby. It's a coming of age, coming out gay movie involving two English teenagers. I said, "No, I don't believe I have." Carl turned his head to the side a little and leaned into me harder, I could feel the tip of his hard cock poking out under that roll of fat. He said, "You should rent it. It might give you an idea how to proceed with what you need to do." I looked even more puzzled then before.

It's hard for me to think of something to say to bizarre comments like that. Chubby would have immediately come up with some smart ass comment. I said, "OK, I will Carl." He did some kind of a theatrical move of his large head and fat hand and said, "Better idea. Why don't you come over to my house and you can watch it with me in my bedroom on high definition TV... I've got the DVD. Let's say, seven tonight. We can also work together on that mugging story you're experiencing writers block with", and then he casually cupped the back of my head, rubbed up from my neck and proceeded to muss my hair on top saying, "Nice hair, Dylan". I was so taken aback, I was speechless.

Today his breath smelled like spoiled cheese. He leaned his head down towards me and I looked up, wondering what the fuck was going on now, as he did something geeky with his eyes that got my skin to crawling. Looking at him directly, he had a big sore looking ingrown pimple on the edge of his nose and lots of nose hairs. I said, "Ah, tonight, you say, Carl? I can't tonight." Now he rested his hand half on my neck and half on my shoulder and did little squeezes. "Change your plans, dude, I need to get to know you better. I've got to figure out what grade to give you and all that." I gulped and squinted back at him as if I was considering his great idea.

Carl waited patiently for some reply from me. A lot of his weight was pressing against me now... my ass squished into the edge of the desk. His boner was poking me in the crotch, sweat broke out on my forehead and as I was wiping at it with the back of my wrist the office door opened and Chubby says, "What the fuck ya doing Carl? You know very well I've been waiting out there for you to sign off on this ad from Fongs Foods, so I can call the printer." With both Chubby and me in there the room was packed, Carl let out a pissed-off exhale and said gruffly to me, "What night then, Newman?" I said, "Can ya let me check with my Mom on that, OK?" I was squeezing along the edge of his desk and finally escaped his bulk and followed Chubby out.

Carl followed too and signed Chubby's reacquisition then grabbed the back of my neck, saying, "Where do you think you're going?" His fingers felt like fat Italian sausages, he said, "Here, call your Mother from my cell phone, right here". I hemmed and hawed but finally called. The cell phone mouth piece smelled like cheese too. I pretended to ask permission to work at Carl's house tomorrow night, Mom said, "Dylan darling, I trust you to do your school work wherever you want to. You don't need to ask me." I held my hand over the receiver and said, "She says not tomorrow either." Carl curtly says, "Ask about Wednesday then." I saw the futility of this charade so I finally agreed to meet him Wednesday night at his house. He smiled at that and actually rubbed down my back and squeezed my ass saying, "Bring everything you think you'll need... if you know what I mean. We can have a little fun mixed in with work."

The second Carl was back in his cubical, Chubby was all over me wanting to know what was going on. When I told him he was like, "Carl Denton? You're going to allow yourself to be in that homo's bedroom alone? Are you out of your fucking mind? Dylan, he's queer for you, man. Can't you see that?" Then his face got red and a vein pulsed at the side of his forehead... he said through his teeth, "If he pulls anything on you, I'll push that blue-cheese-breathed motherfucker down the steps." Chubby gets wicked protective of me sometimes and it's so sweet, but it can make a bad situation worse at times too. Like this situation right here. It's a no win deal for me, OK? So what, I let Carl feel me up a bit, we do the story and I'm done with it. And, maybe I get a good grade too. If Chubby gets involved, who knows where the fuck it ends-up.

My dream is to go to an Ivy League university and I need the grades to do that. This is just one tiny step toward my goal. If Chubby messes with Carl, Carl will take it out on me by giving me a bad grade. I talked to Chubby all the way home and he promises not to do or say anything to Carl until after Wednesday night. When we got home we talked about it generally with our Moms, even mentioning that Carl was probably a homo. My Mom said, "Dylan can take care of himself.

You both can. My God, you're seventeen years old... soon you'll be voting. Ya can't let anyone push you around Dylan, and I don't think you will. I'm always here for ya, sweetheart! You know that."

Chubby and me did our four mile run, our homework, and ate our dinner. Then downstairs to watch a pre-season Red Sox game on TV. It was the top half of the third inning by the time Chubby was cuming in his pants, making little groans as he humped my leg. I use to have a dog who did the same thing... he did it to your calf if you let him. Trooper, was his name. A little mutt we adopted from the SPCA pound who died of old age in his sleep one night. Chubby and me cried for a week after he died... we were thirteen years old at the time. But, boy oh boy, we use to laugh our little nuts off when Trooper was humping someone's leg a mile a minute... usually one of ours.

Now, Chubby does basically the same thing to my thigh. He turned around after a bit and got hold of my hand again as we quietly watching Dice K strike out the side. I though about my recent hours in the hospital waiting room worrying about Chubby and about how much he means to me. No way would I do anything to screw-up our friendship, but I was also thinking... it's weird, but Chubby is getting his "rocks" off and maybe I'd like to get mine off as well. This was a recent recurring theme of mine. Not with Chubby, of course... that would upset everything between us and he's never even hinted he wants anything more from me than for me to stay still while he fucks my leg... and to let him suck on my feet, and the leg shaving... I think that's it.

So, no, not Chubby... who then? I mean, I need to explore my sexuality some time, don't I? Why not do it where I can also get a side benefit. Maybe Carl has experience with being gay, sexually I mean... I can at least learn something. Experiment to see if anything turns me on. Jerking off and fantasizing is fine, but why not try for something different. Carl is gross looking, but I'm not looking for a date ... just some experimenting in a little sex. Maybe I'll hate it, I won't know if I don't try it. I'm going to think about this some more... without, needless to say, mentioning a word to Chubby.

When a commercial came on between inning Chubby says, "It's hard to believe, but your ears secrete more earwax when you're afraid then when you aren't. Did you notice any extra earwax when we were getting the shit kicked out of us by the Chavez brothers? Did you, Dylan" I go, "Well, no I didn't, Chub. How bout you?" He says, "Fuck do I know?" I grunt, " Huh!" and squeeze him with the arm he's holding onto. I'm chuckling and Chubby twist his head around to look at me, and with that cute face scrunched up he says, "What the fuck you always laughing about?"

After school the next day, Carl was nice to me and then on Wednesday, he let me go home early from newspaper duties saying, "See ya seven o'clock, Dylan"

OK?" I'm like, "Yeah, I'll be there" and he had this strange look on his face, like he'd just been goosed, or something... it gave me the creeps. Chubby babbled all the way home about the gym teacher and what a dumb fuck the man was for thinking every boy was capable of the same physical activities... blah, blah, blah... "doesn't that moron know they've done studies on the stress level of human limbs..." He always has the strongest opinions and most bizarre facts, or "factoids" as he calls them.

He was saying, "Of course, the human thighbone is stronger than concrete, but it depends on the torque ...." I tuned him out on our walk home because I wanted to think about tonight at Carls. How should I handle this? Play it cautious of course, but keep an open mind and learn something. I didn't think it was going to be but it was getting to be a concern... Carl's unattractiveness, I mean. It was getting to be a bigger problem the closer I got to actually doing "something" with him. I was thinking, "Why can't it be Rob Dickers instead of Carl." Then I spent some time wondering why I thought of Dickers... he's a kid in my Chemistry and History classes. Well, yeah... he's nice looking. Fuck, how shallow am I anyway?.

After dinner, before I was to head out to see Carl, Chubby gave me a little lecture and a factoid for tonight. "Dylan, listen to me. An average man's penis is three times the length of his thumb... so check out Carl's thumb and that should give you something to think about." Instead I looked down at his stubby thumb. Chubby didn't notice, he told me to be careful with Carl and, most important... "Remember everything, so you can tell me afterward". I thought he was going to kiss me goodbye there for a second...heh heh, just kidding. I had to walk to Carl's house because our Moms both say they're real sorry, but they can't afford car insurance for us and that means... no drivers license. Chubby and I are probably the only seventeen year olds in the entire town of Framingham who don't have drivers licenses. We refuse to ride our bikes in protest against our Moms' position on the insurance issue.... so I gotta walk.

The walk to Carl's house took about a half hour and I got there early, at five minutes to seven. Nice eight room house in a good, but not an especially upscale, neighborhood. A fat, young, teen-aged girl, who looked just like Carl, answered the door. She goes, "Oooooh, you're soooo cute! Oh my God, I love your haircut. It's awesomely preppy!" Carl storms over from someplace to yell, "You make me sick Dee... get back! Get away from him! Mother, tell Dee to return to her cage!!" Then he looked at me and in a regular voice said, "Come in Dylan, she's boy crazy. Follow me." I was glad to follow... Dee rubbed my hair as I passed by her. I tried to smile and act like a good sport, but I really wanted to say, "Yuck! Keep your paws to yourself, fatso."

Upstairs, in Carl's room, it was quiet and we both acted uncomfortable. There was a double bed that Carl's feet surely must hang off the end of when he sleeps.. a big desk with a nice computer and flat screen monitor, two armless, swivel chairs, and a double chest of drawers which had a high definition TV on top of it. Wall to wall carpeting. A hellava nice room for a kid. Posters of the Patriots and Red Sox Championships adorned the walls.

Carl started off formally telling me where to sit, asking if I'd like a soda or something, and then asking if I'd come up with any of the story yet. I told him I'd been thinking that maybe I could do a conciliatory story instead... bring together the various communities, that type thing...the Hispanics and the African Americans and the Whites. Carl said he'd think about that. He made no mention of the movie "Beautiful Thing", but instead asked me if I was on MySpace.com. He accessed his MySpace as he asked about mine. I didn't have one, I told him. Chubby and me think they're dumb and a waste of time. I didn't mention that to Carl. He said, "Look at mine and tell me what stands out to you, Dylan."

Looking at his computer screen meant I was forced to sit close to him because he hadn't moved. I looked at the screen for awhile going, "Hmmm?" Thinking to myself... be friendly! Then I exclaimed, "You like only sixties music! Wow, that's unusual cause there are some awesome bands out now. Oh my God, look how ugly and old Mick is, all of the Rolling Stones are, actually." I chuckled a little looking up at Carl, who was not amused. He says, "Forget the fucking music, look at my profile. What stands out to you?" Now I saw immediately what he was referring to. Next to "Orientation" he'd indicated "gay". I said, "You're gay. Is that what you mean?"

That started him off pompously emphasizing how much courage it takes to be who you are, and that people with the same orientation should stick together. "Homosexuality, Dylan, isn't a "choice" that's made, it's "hard-copied" into those of us who are that way. Now, if you were setting up a profile for yourself, what would you designate as your orientation?" Man, I had to give him props for being direct. I thought about it a second and said, "Question mark, cause I don't know." He said I could take his word for it, that I was definitely a candidate for "gay" as my orientation, and he has the gaydar to back up that assumption. I said, "Gaydar?" and he explained that.

It was all expressed in such a matter-of-fact manner that it put me somewhat at ease. Not that I had a clue as to what to say next. I sat there nodding my head like.. Oh yeah, Carl. That clears it all up for me. He said, "As current senior editor I'm thinking of recommending you to replace me as the senior editor for next year, Dylan. What do you think about that?" He had my attention now as he continued, "That'll puts you in the good graces of Dr Calvin on the superintendant's staff. You suck up with him just a little bit and he'll send a glowing letter of recommendation to assist you getting into the college of your choice. That recommendation, my friend, carries some weight." I said, "Thanks Carl, that's wonderful of you."

Then we talked about my college choices and Carl told me he was going to Brown University, which is an Ivy League school, but not my top choice. I was kind of excited about all this Ivy League talk and talk of me being senior editor next year. Carl's breath tonight reeked of onions... maybe he had onion soup for dinner. He went through the process I'd need to follow when applying to colleges etc.. Very helpful and interesting information for the most part. I pretended I liked smelling my index finger in an effort to off-set his onion breath... a mostly unsuccessful effort as it turned out.

After a while Carl brought the conversation back to sex. "What kind of sex have you experienced Dylan, and don't give me that "private, personal information" bullshit. We're a couple of gay guys shooting the breeze. What you say in this room, stays in this room." I noticed he'd assigned me the "gay" orientation already and if I don't object to it, he wins that point... I guess. But I have to agree with him... If I'm not gay, I'm closer to gay than anything else. It came out kind of like a whine when I said, "No sex really, it's an awkward thing to talk about."

Carl put his arm around my shoulders and leaned his head down to almost touch mine, "It's OK Dylan, but you're worse off than I thought. You need a mentor and I'm going to be a mentor for you because I admire your writing, and because you're the cutest kid I've ever seen." When he said the "cutest kid" thing he said it in a fast, humorous voice, impersonating another famous person I didn't recognize, and then he chuckled and hugged my shoulders and said, "Come on Dylan, lighten-up just a touch. OK? Most people get hysterical at my Jerry Lewis impersonation. I said, "Who's that?"

Then I tried to chuckle and his forehead touched the top of my head... he left it there to say, "We'll start out just getting use to the feel of each other. I don't want to go too fast, especially in light of the fact that you've never had any sexual experience at all. Wow, you're seventeen and nothing sexual...girl or boy?". Once again, I wasn't sure if that was a statement or a question. I waited a second and then said, "Yeah! Huh!" figuring that sort of covers a "yes" and a "no". He went on, "First thing you got to realize is that I'm a senior and therefore I have a lot more experience, in everything, than you... certainly where sexual matters are involved. Secondly, I'm fond of you and want to help you. OK?" When I didn't say anything this time, he shook me gently and said, "OK, Dylan?" I said, "OK Carl, but I'm not real sure what you mean."

Standing up to his full height he said, "Get up with me. Now turn around and lean back on me, Dylan. You must learn to trust me." I leaned back against him stiffly. His big bulging stomach made it even more weird then it had to be. He loosely put his arms around me and hugged me into him saying, "Just enjoy the feel of another male body." He swayed us back and forth a little and he rested the side of his face on the top of my head saying softly, "You have the most beautiful shade of blond hair I've ever seen. By any chance, do you have it highlighted?" I was breathing with little gasps because this was seriously weird-ing me out... I managed to say, "No, Carl. It's just my own hair." Then nervously I added, "Heh heh, oh.. but thanks for the compliment". I was totally off balance and nervous.

I didn't know what I was suppose to do. I didn't know if this would help or hurt me, but I remembered very well Carl saying he was going to nominate me to be senior editor next year... and that is a big deal. Christ! I hadn't been at all confident that they'd even be asking me back as a reporter. Carl had said something that I missed and I go, "I'm sorry, what was that?" He gives me the short version of whatever he'd said, "I'm going to brush the front of your pants, stay still, OK?" I stood still, thinking, "brush my pants, what the..?" and he repeated, "OK?" and this time I said "OK". His big hand lightly brushed against my crotch, then again and again a little firmer. He left his hand there, right against my cock... it didn't move, my cock I mean... and neither did I.... and neither did his hand.

"You feel that, right, Dylan?" I go, "Un huh" and he takes hold of my whole package in his large hand and squeezes it.. my nuts move around in their little sack and my soft cock molds to the curvature of Carl's hand. "Feel OK, Dylan?" I go, "Un huh" and he does a light massage and then a little tighter massage and keeps it up for two minutes until my dick starts to slightly stiffen. That's when Carl, from the outside of my pants, begins to stroke the uncut skin of my penis up and down using only two fingers and his thumb. Neither of us spoke, and as my dick gets harder and harder I realized I was laying fully back against Carl now, concentrating on my boner. No one has ever touched it except me so this was a new sensation. I took a big breath and Carl whispers, "Nice and easy, Dylan. You're doing great. Undo your pants now, and I'll get you on your bare skin."

Once again, the matter-of-fact way all this was happening went a long way toward making it seem, OK. I'm aware young teens often jerk each other off... at least I've read that's so. Chubby and me never did it and I certainly never did it with anyone else. Of course, Carl and I are a little too old for this, but it felt good anyway. I undid my pants and they caught at my knees. Through just my boxer shorts now, he groped my cock and balls some before starting-up with more strokes... my dick was really getting hard now. Stopping again he says, "Get your boxers down, Dylan... I told you I want to do you bare." I pulled them down and that first feel of someone's bare hand, other than mine, on my bare cock, had me going... "Ahh Ah Oh!" with short, fast breaths.

Carl had his head bent down and was nuzzling the side of his face against the side of mine. Shortly he was doing full length strokes on my fully erect boner. The uncut foreskin going up and over the head of my cock and then pulled down and off the head and back up on the head... pretty much the way it went when I stroked it. I was leaning back into Carl harder and harder the faster he stroked me, and then finally up on my toes and "Aggg, agg, oh! I'm cuming Carl, I'm cuming!!" Five short strings of cum splattered against the side of his desk as he continued to stroke my boner. It felt real good. Carl slowed down and turned me slowly around. His face was a dark pink... he undid his pants saying, "OK, now you do me, Dylan".

I was still snorting out breaths from my own climax, but I nodded my head. Fair is fair...

He pulled out his average size, cut, boner and I jerked him off standing at his side. That wasn't as good an angle as standing behind him, like he'd done to me, but I wouldn't be able to reach around to stroke his cock standing behind his fat ass and reaching around his fat stomach. Anyway, he got off real good the way I did it. A lot more cum shot out of Carl's cock against the side of that desk than had shot out of mine. He grunted with each shot and his whole massive body shuddered like mad when he was done. "Oh fuck!" he said, "I've got to sit down." Then after thirty seconds of heavy breathing he motioned with his fingers for me to step over to him. In a trance, I did and he pulls me onto his bare lap with my bare ass sitting on his huge thighs. This was too weird and I tried to wiggle off, but he held me on.

"No, Dylan. You need to get use to this. Believe me, I understand it's freaky to you just now, but you'll get use to it soon enough and you'll wind-up loving it. I see it in you, you're going to love gay sex. Come on, lay back against me." I was surprised that after five minutes I was comfortable on his lap. I think the differences in our size helped with that comfortable feeling. I started to say something and Carl goes, "Shhh, Dylan. Let's just get use to each other... the way we feel to each other. OK?" I nodded my head because it was so very, very odd and this experience had taken a lot of my energy already... frankly, I was tired. After five more minutes I lulled my head back against Carl's shoulder... the top of my head reached to just under his nose. I felt like a little kid.

Carl gently rubbed my shoulders and chest and after a while began whispering how wonderful he thought I was.

He knew much more about me, about my grades, and generally about me being kind of a dweeb in High School, and all kinds of things... like I said, much more about me than I'd ever have guessed he'd know. Then he told me I need to change that dweeb image and I need to get closer to the main stream of High School life. That is, if I wanted to get into an Ivy League University. They cared about extra curricular activities and clubs and team participation and that sort of thing. He told me he was mentoring me with all this advise and he hoped I appreciated it. I had to agree he made a lot of sense. We stayed that way for maybe a half hour and I was sleepy/relaxed when he said, "One more time, Dylan, and then you'll have to head on home."

With that he said, "Sit up now"...I did, and he wacked me off as I sat on his lap. I got harder quicker this time and before I shot the small second load I felt his rock hard cock against my buttock and it made me think, for the first time tonight, about my fantasy mystery boy fucking me while I jerk-off. That through got me to fire off a little bit harder. I squirmed on his lap and moaned as my head pressed back against his shoulder. Carl jerked on my cock for over a minute after I climaxed and then said, "Finish me off knelling between my legs. You need to get use to being in that position anyway" and he was slipping me off his lap as he said it. I knelt down there between his large legs and jerked his cock for him.. two minutes, tops, and he fired off a nice second load of cum... some of it got on me. Ick!

Carl, rested his head back against his chair and breathed deeply for a minute, me still trapped between his legs, sort of under the desk. "OK, Dylan, let's go. I'll help you" and he stood up and took my hands to help pull me up. Let's end with a hug, OK?" and he wrapped me up in his arms, saying... "Hold around my waist tight" and when I did my arms wouldn't reach all the way around. He kissed the side of my forehead at least a dozen times, me standing still for them. Each kiss he held on my forehead a few seconds. If it was somebody else, that might have felt really nice. Nice because it's special to be 'desired' like that. Even though it was Carl, I think my dick still moved a little by the time he was giving me the last couple of longish, wet kisses.

We pulled our underwear and pants back up and then went into Carl's small bathroom to neaten-up. Carl said off-handedly, "We'll do this once a week for starters and see if we develop chemistry together. If something special happens between us, we'll do it more often. Make it every Wednesday at seven, OK, Dylan?" He's constantly catches me off guard with the "business-as-usual" way of talking when, in fact, he's talking about the most unusual thing ever in my life. But, be that as it may, I replied, "OK Carl, whatever you say" and Carl said, again in a pompous manner, " Well, I'll mentor you using all my knowledge and experience, but it's up to you how much you apply yourself, how much you get out of it." I wasn't sure if he was referring to helping me get in an Ivy League college or teaching me about gay sex. I started heading for the door when he said, to himself, it seemed... "Why not try one last thing" and he turned me around, leaned down, and kissed me on my lips.

That kiss was a shock and I never expected him to do it again, but he did.. and this time he ran his fat mushy, onion smelling tongue all along under my lips. I gagged and he put his tongue in my mouth and moved it around for a minute... it seemed much longer than a minute. That kissing maneuver is going to have to be scrapped and put away, never to be seen again... but right now I didn't want to make a point of it because up till that disgusting kiss all was going OK. I pulled my head away and said, "That's enough, OK Carl?"

He said, "Well, we'll agree that it's enough for now Dylan, but making out with you is so hot! You'll probably wind up loving all these things I'm teaching you." I go, "Ha ha, I'm so sure" trying to keep it light, like he said I should, and we went downstairs.

With his Mom and Dad there I said a quick goodbye to them and hustled out the door, Carl right behind me. Outside, on the front step of his house, Carl quietly said, "I knew you were quality people, Dylan. Tonight went excellently and I'm determined to mentor you to the extent you deserve." I wondered what that meant... "extent I deserve"?

Carl asked, "What special area would you like to explore next time?" Honest to God, I still can't believe it, but I mumble out, "Would you be willing to try to, you know.. anal, Ah...you know, fuck me, Carl." He looked shocked and then, speaking an inch from my ear, he said, "You bring the condoms ... good ones, not some cheapies, and I'll do you up real good." I nodded my head and then, God damn if I didn't say, "Thanks, Carl. Thanks for everything!" He patted my head like I was a good boy and off I went.

Walking home real slow to give me time to make sense of tonight. It wasn't that I was freaked out about it or anything. I was rational in my thinking... we didn't do anything particularly outrageous or "naughty"... no more naughty than happens millions of times each day. And, I had learned some things. For one, it feels good having someone jerk you off even if you don't particularly like the person doing it. Another thing I learned is... it didn't do anything for me sexually to jerk off Carl. And, absolutely positively, kissing is NOT going to make it with me and, lastly, I found out I have more guts than I thought I had.

I'm not sorry I went to Carl's tonight and I'm not sorry I asked him to fuck me either... although, like I said, I'm shocked I had the guts to ask for it. All these years I've been fantasizing about it in exquisite detail, about a boy fucking me... and now I'll find out what it's all about for real. Wish it was a boy other than Carl though. Damn, there's that shallow thought again as if "looks" are real important... he's got a dick, doesn't he? Jeez, that's all it takes.

By ten o'clock that night Chubby and I were getting ready for bed. He's taking a leek and I'm brushing my teeth.. Chubby says, "The human bladder is roughly the size of a soft ball, right?" With a mouthful of toothpaste I mutter, "Soft ball?" and he says, "Yeah. So where's all this piss coming from. A soft ball couldn't hold all this." I spit after gargling and said, "Fuck if I know" and then I hop in Chubby's bed.

"How long ya think I'm going to have to keep ya company sleeping with ya?" He says angrily, "You'll be the first to know, Dylan. When I don't want you to sleep with me, you'll be the first person I tell" ... he was hurt. Then after ten seconds, in a much meeker manner he asked, "You don't want to Dylan? We use to sleep together all the time." Then he was real still and quiet.

I didn't let the silence build because Chubby gets his feelings hurt wicked easily... I said, "Oh no, Chubby.

I like sleeping with you, it's just we haven't done a lot of it since we were like... what?, ah... ten fucking years old, ya know? Come on over here though, I'll give my best friend in the world a hug." He rolled right over and I hugged him with both arms. "I'm no pussy, Dylan. I just need you close by me for a little while longer." I suggested we get some sleep and after about five minutes Chubby quietly says, "Thanks for sticking with me, Dylan."

Earlier tonight he wanted every detail of my encounter with Carl. I mentioned not a single word about what actually happened sexually, instead lied about stuff we did. And, I don't feel good about it either, but what else could I do? My lie was that we were actually working on a story for the newspaper and, oh yeah... I was honest about Carl volunteering to be my mentor and about him nominating me to be senior editor. Chubby was relieved that's all there was to it, but was pissed I'd have to do it again next Wednesday. He whined that he missed me and that it's no fun being home alone... "boring", he said it was. And, he said he was worried about me too.

Next day, back in school, all newspaper activities were now pleasant ones for me. Carl was very courteous to me now ...and soon others on the paper followed his lead. They began to recognize that I was more important around here then was previously thought to be the case. Most people are followers... they easily accepted that my stock had skyrocketed and some were actually brown-nosing with me. Chubby and I came and went as we pleased... it was fine with the boss, Carl.

The next Tuesday Carl called me into his office and told me to lock the door. He said he was looking forward to our meeting tomorrow night and, trying to sound upbeat, I said, "Yeah, me too for sure!". I told him I was nervous about it, but real curious. Carl said, "You are so cute and innocent, I've been in here thinking about you" then he wiggled his finger for me to come to him. When I walked over he wrapped me in his arms and began with the kissing on the mouth again. I twisted my head and said, "Jeez, wait a second." He stopped, asking "Wussup?" Thinking to myself, I can't do the kissing, I just can't. So, taking a deep breath and taking a chance on blowing the senior editor job, I came right out and told him that kissing wasn't going to be part of anything he and I were doing.... ever.

To my amazement he immediately said, "OK, Dylan. Right! No more kissing. You're the one needing the mentoring, right? I'm just trying to teach you how to go about things. We're still on for tomorrow night, right Dylan?" Relieved that everything seemed fine, I nodded my head "yes" and then, testing to see if I was still in good standing here, I said, "Any problem if Chubby and me just take off now?" Carl was like, "No! No problem, Dylan...."

Walking home, Chubby was on a rant about the Junior prom. "It really sucks that you weren't even nominated to be "king" of the prom. I put your name in the box... and they don't even acknowledge it? Whats up with that? Darren Lewis is nominated along with that dork, Bob Leadert? Who is shitting who? Dylan, you're much better looking then either of those dorks. It's so unfair." I said, "Jesus, Chubby, I'm not even going to the prom, I don't give a shit who's the King... or Queen, for that matter." Chubby wouldn't let it go, " It's a fucking conspiracy of morons."

Chubby lights up a cigarette, takes a drag and passes it to me. I take a drag and say, "To answer your question, it's a clique...like most things in High School. Fuck, like most things in the world, maybe." He gives the last word on the matter, "Fuck em!" and after a minute or so I ask, "You going to the prom?" Chubby says, "Not now, but I could have. Carol Demarso asked me to go. She's got a wicked crush on me and I could get in her pants with one hand tied behind my back. Fuck her proper with my big bad boy... make her happy, but forget about it if you're not going."

He goes on to tell me that her nose is too big for her face and anyway... her tits are huge..."grossing me out. Ya know?" I said, "Hey, how about we go together. We could practice dancing together and wear matching tuxedos" Chubby gets furious, "Now you've gone too far, Dylan. There are some things ya don't fucking kid about, and being a fag is one of them." We walk in silence with me trying not to snicker. He's taking a drag off our Marlboro light and I say, "Does that mean you're turning me down, Chub, is that what I'm hearing?" His face gets red, "I told ya, don't fuck around... we could get a reputation if guys hear that kind of joking.." I said, "Kiss me Chubby, kiss me" and he flicks the cigarette butt at me as I take off. We ran the rest of the way home... man, I love to run. It makes your whole body feel good. All the blood rushing around inside ya... it's a high!

After talking with our Moms for fifteen minutes we go out for our regular four mile run. Walking towards the park, Chubby says, real serious like... "The average person's skin weights twice as much as their brain." I laugh at the non sequitur and say, "Does that include thin skinned boys". Chubby says, "What do ya mean by that?" God, he's so much fun... what would I do without Chubby. Ever since the scare at the hospital I've been noticing and appreciating Chubby more and more. It's like I took him for granted all these years. His sparkly, bright eyes and his smallish, straight nose... the little boy grin and the shy way he has when he's given a compliment. Just before we start running I hug Chubby around the neck and say, "I love ya, bro" and he goes, "Don't start breaking my balls again, Dylan" and off he runs with me trying to catch-up, thinking.. "Damn, wish I had Chubby's complexion... he looks hot".

Wednesday night I'm back ringing the doorbell at Carl's. He answers this time, no tubby sister in sight. I follow Carl up to his bedroom and he says, "Let me see the condoms". It took some balls, me buying those things, but I'm wicked curious to see how this is going to feel so in the drugstore, I just held my breath and handed two packets of an expensive brand condom to the lady at the register....they cost two days lunch money. The lady rung them up without even glancing at me. Carl says, "Yeah, these are good" and he tears one open, but leaves it in the wrapper. "OK, Dylan, you got to get me hard first. What the hell, you're going to have to learn how anyway... so, you'll do it by blowing me, Let's see, to start with you don't have to get on your knees, you can sit on the bed... that should be the right height." He is one direct bastard alright. He comes right out with this stuff as if he's saying pass the potatoes... which, by the look of him, he's said quite often over the years.

Carl had his pants undone and was playing with himself absently as he explained, "I've only fucked one guy... my cousin. Just him, but over the last two summers I've done him maybe twenty-five times.. or more. So, I know what I'm doing. You need to get out of your pants and underwear completely." And, just like that, I started feeling totally awkward and I hesitated as Carl bit his lip, played with himself, and stared at me. I had an internal battle with myself, trying to get myself to pull down my pants. So far, I'd gotten no further than unsnapping my jeans and Carl says, in a sympathetic way, "I know it's difficult doing something for the first time. We don't have to do it tonight if you don't want to. It's OK." That proved to be the deciding factor... his unexpected understanding manner.

He stood there with a questioning look on his face and his dick in his hand... before I could change my mind, I roughly pulled down my pants and boxers together and steps out of them. My dick and nuts were sort of shriveled up and I felt self conscious about that, but Carl wasn't paying attention to my dick. "No, I'm wrong" he says, "the bed is too high, Dylan... you'd have to scrunch down too much. Here, for starters, sit on this stool. In the future you'll have to do it on your knees... that's the was I make my cousin do it." My bare ass was chilly sitting on the cool wood, but sitting there had my head even with Carl's penis, which was already half a stiffy. I hadn't anticipated sucking his dick, but, there it was in front of me. It's didn't smell like anything as I took it in my hand, thank God. Carl had gotten me use to touching his penis last week so maybe he does know what he's doing.

He was making little impatient hip movements with his wide, fat waist... so I closed my eyes and licked the head of his cock. It didn't taste like anything. I might just as well be licking a piece of wood as far as the taste goes. Well, as far as the texture goes too because Carl's cock was getting hard fast. I better hurry, so I put it in my mouth and sucked on it trying to think of something else... something other than "I have some boy's penis in my mouth". I tried to pretend I had a fat wood dowel in my mouth. A round, smooth, fat wood, dowel with a tulip shaped cock head at the end. Oh man, get a grip!

Fuck, this sucks! I licked it some more, Carl said, "Stroke it while you're sucking it. Use your tongue more and suction with your lips and tongue at the same time... and remember, stroking it all the time". I made my mind as blank as I could and did as he asked. After about three minutes I couldn't imagine his cock possibly getting any harder. Surely it's hard enough to fuck me with. My dick felt like it was slipping up inside me. The exact opposite of what Carl's dick was doing so, obviously... I was not turned on even a little bit so far.

As I sucked his cock Carl made grunting sounds and ran his fingers through my hair. Just as I was about to pull my mouth off his boner to ask how much longer I had to suck it, Carl goes, "Ohhh" and a fine spray of liquid comes out his pee slit into my mouth. I pull my head back going "aaaggghhh, shit !!.. you peed in my mouth. Or was it cum?" and then I spit in his waste basket three times. Picking up the condom, Carl said, "Ohhh, that felt good. It was precum, Dylan. OK we're all set, get up, turn around, and bend over... hold onto the desk, I'll give you your first fuck now."

Happy the cock sucking was over with, I did exactly what he'd told me to do. Carl, matter-of-factly comes out with... "It might hurt at first... probably a lot, but don't scream or my parents will hear you. Just bare it, OK." I nodded my head, "yes". Feeling real nervous now. "Stick your ass up, Dylan. Good, keep it up like that, you're shorter than me." Carl started bumping the end of his boner against my hole, the condom squishy with some kind of lubricant. Each bump got firmer until the head of his cock went inside me... and, broke something in there. I was seeing black dots streaming in my head and the burning pain caused tears to roll down my face. I thought, "Well, he did warn me."

Carl quietly goes, "Oh yeah, this is what it's all about. Relax your body, I'm pushing up your tunnel now". And boy did he ever... all the way up as I made rapid slurping sounds, sort of like a mantra, to get my mind off the pain. When he was all the way up there he pulled back steadily and pushed back up, and then did it again... slowly, but steadily, a few more times and much of the pain faded. He soon started a much quicker humping ... very confidently and steady now. I thought of my fantasy and realized that while this didn't hurt so much anymore, it also didn't feel all that great either. That is until he grabbed me by the hips and pulled me up higher, onto my toes.

All of a sudden, in the higher position, just like my fantasy... every time the fat head of his swollen cock massaged a certain spot in my hole I felt this awesome sensation. I tried to get up even higher on my toes and now, when his hard boner was going up and pulling back down... both ways it hit that spot and got my dick feeling tingling and fine like when I'm jerking myself off, ready to cum. Carl was grunting and smacking my ass with each pile driving hump now and I was getting a boner without even touching it...Hot Shit!!.. that was so cool. A couple of minutes later my stomach tightened, I squeaked out "Ahhh", and watery cum did a soft spurt out of my cock a few times. Then a harder string of cum and overall it was an odd climax, but it felt better then when I jerked myself off. My thought was, "Oh my God, I'm actually cuming from being fucked!"

I had to tighten my sphincter each time I squeezed cum out of my nuts and that got Carl making gargling sounds in his throat and then he lay his stomach on my back and really humped hard into me three times and held the last one way up in me tight, doing little humps and making whimpering sounds. I felt spit drool out of his mouth onto my head as he moaned, "Oh fuck. It's been awhile, but that is a freaking awesome feeling. Whoa.." Then something warm was drooling down the inside of my thigh... over-heated lube from the condom I guess.

My heart was pumping to beat the band and I was breathing like I just ran a fast four miles. Jesus, I gotta say, that did feel good. I see what all the fuss is about now. I said, "Could you get off my back please, Carl. You're heavy." He struggled up and pulled his softening cock out of me. "Ahh ahh" that felt good too. We breathed deeply for a minute and then from Carl, "Ok, how was it." I told him it was great, thanks. He said, "We'll rest for an hour and I'll do you again, slower this next time". I was up for that. My ass was a little sore, but I wanted to feel that "feeling in my hole" again. The one that made my ass buzz and my dick vibrate.

The second time, using the second condom, his entrance still hurt, but not as much... and I kept my ass way up so I got that special extra awesome sensation right from the first trip up my tunnel. He fucked me for twenty minutes, some of it frantic near the end... that's when I had my second climax. It didn't match my first, but the twenty minutes of fucking felt good and I wasn't disappointed. Carl was spent by the end of that twenty minutes and collapsed on his bed mumbling, " this is fantastic". He told me to come lay with him and we'd make out for a while. I gave him a look like "are you kidding" and he remembered the "no kissing" rule and said, "Oh yeah, never mind... forget it.".

By the time I left for home my hole was very sore and the walk back sucked. My ass also was squishy with the lube from the condom, but all in all it was a successful experience. It had felt real good, but maybe in retrospect, not "zoom, to the moon" kind of good like I fantasized about... not even close, actually. So, maybe that's all there is. Maybe that's all there is and maybe it's not all there is... Carl wants to fuck me in different positions next time. That might increase the "hot" factor some... we'll see. It's a work-in-progress. Carl kind of insisted I come over twice a week, not just the once, and I gave in pretty easily, but now I've got to tell Chubby that he'll be alone twice a week. That'll piss him off for sure.

Coming into the family room saying "Hi" to Chubby, I was careful not to groan or walk with a limp or anything like that, but my ass was definitely hurting.

Halfway home I'd felt like I had to take a crap... and a little later was afraid I wouldn't make it home in time. When I told Chubby about Carl insisting on the twice a week thing, amazingly he didn't get mad. Instead he hesitated and, I know him so well... I knew he had something to tell me that he too didn't want to say.

Finally he blurts it out fast. "Jeez, Dylan.. This is some good news and some bad news. You know how we want to get our drivers license, right?" I nod my head and he talks fast explaining that a friend in his homeroom finally got him a part-time job with Framingham Window Cleaners... washing windows. I'd been aware for a while that Chubby had his name, and mine, on that company's waiting list. Hoping, of course, we'd both get hired. The homeroom kid's father is the foremen and picked Chubby's name ahead of others in line, as a favor to his son.

"It's who-ya-know in this world, Dylan. So I get in ahead of other people, but your name is still back in the pack. Maybe by the summer we'll be working together." Chubby will start out making nine dollars an hour, which is important because the whole idea of this is to save all the wages to pay for our car insurance... and then we can get our drivers license. Chubby went on... "That's the good part, the bad part is I've got to miss our four mile run, and the newspaper stuff after school and, well.. everything in our routine before dinner... and I'll have to do my homework after dinner. Maybe you'll wait to do yours then too...so we can do it together." He was proud of himself for getting the job on the one hand, but... on the other hand, he was sad because our time together would be seriously reduced. There are changes in life and one must adjust... that's what we ended up telling each other.

With Chubby working after school, I switched seeing Carl from night time to right after we worked on the newspaper. As time went by it got to the point where I was going over to his place three times a week. He fucked me in many different positions, although we both liked doggy style best in the end. The more he fucked me, the more he melded into this real softy wuss. It was like I was the one actually in charge of this situation and that was fine with him as long as I let him fuck me. He was buying all the condoms by now too, and they weren't cheap... plus we had pizza and drinks that he'd buy... like that. Near the end there, he would have jumped through hoops if I told him too. Jump through hoops maybe, but he wouldn't give in on the thing I wanted.

After a couple of weeks I tried to switch it around so I could get him to suck me off and then I'd fuck him... see how that felt. To that idea Carl said he couldn't even consider it. He explained he was what is called a "top". He actually seemed real sorry, but he told me that some guys just can't bottom. He acted kinda hesitant about everything, as if I might say "fuck it then". I didn't say it that day, but after thinking about it for another week or so I did end our arrangement.

It's like... I enjoyed getting fucked at first, but after a while I was missing my four mile run and he wouldn't give in to switching it around...so I finally told him, "Sorry, Carl, but your fuck mentoring is over." He bitched a little, but the truth is he's a senior and the senior class gets out of school four weeks before the rest of us. They have senior trips and special activities and all kinds of stuff to do... activities out the ying yang. They'll actually have their graduation two whole weeks before the rest of us even get off for summer vacation... so, Carl's fucking days with me would have come to an end soon anyway. He had already nominated me to replace him as the new senior editor and I'd been officially approved by the high school principal. Carl and I parted on good terms, but I never really got to "like" him as a person... he was just a fuck partner... and he turned into a wimpy one at that.

Analyzing the entire episode during my walk home from his house that last time I came to the conclusion it had been a useful learning experience, but a disappointing one too. I'd read on the net all about climaxing and about how "rockets" are suppose to go off in your head when you do it, and it was suppose to be the thrill of all thrills etc etc.. and that's how I had my fantasy set-up. The real thing.. sure, it felt good, but not even a cap gun was going off there at the end, never mind a rocket. And, the more maudlin, more of a wussy girly boy Carl became, that made it even less exciting then it was in the beginning..

Near the end I was thinking that it wasn't even worth the trouble. Of course, I haven't fucked someone myself yet...so, maybe that will be closer to what I was hoping the experience would be like. I'm hoping that me fucking some boy will be the sexual experience that finally has me "shooting to the moon".

The most disappointing aspect of all this is that I wasted so many fantasies on that mystery boy fucking me... when I finally got someone to actually do "it" to me, it was OK, but not, WOW, like my fantasy.

Chubby and me were meeting at dinner every night and I noticed we'd become real touchy/feely with each other.

We both missed our afternoon "routine activities" together. Hell, I missed Chubby, period. Before dinner lately I was massaging his shoulders and his right hand and forearm. You wouldn't think cleaning a window would be that big a deal, but it is. It gets harder on your hands each hour. Chubby was on the "rag squad", not the squeegy squad which was less stressful on fingers and hands, but harder on arms. His fingers, especially the index and middle ones, ached all day from using them to force the cleaning rag into the corners of each fixed-pane window.

The crew Chubby was on had to do all the little windows and all those corners, as I said, were the killers. Chub said, "Four hours seems like twenty-four hours when you're washing windows". Man, I felt for him, but Chubby is a bull dog... he'll never quit. We did our homework sitting close together at my small desk and then downstairs to sit tight together watching the Red Sox on TV every night.

I enjoyed how Chubby's body felt and I admired his toughness and, basically, I liked everything about my little best friend.

Chubby did the same laying on my arm while watching TV, and then the humping on my leg as always, but now I was participating a little more by holding him around his back with both my arms and running my fingers through his hair and humping up with my leg slightly in rhythm with him. He would let out moans when doing cum spurts in his pants and I'd rub his shoulders and the back of his neck and head gently. We still never mentioned any of this, but now when he turned back over to watch the game he'd position himself further up on my side so the top of his head was against my cheek instead of my shoulder.

Half the time, without really thinking about it, I'd be giving Chub little hugs too, not just him hugging my arm like it use to be. I was really enjoying Chubby's smell too. I'd smelled him all my life and never took notice until now. Recently, I liked to inhale a big breath smelling the boyish oder coming off that hot little body of his... or take little whiffs of his hair when he was leaning the top his head against my cheek. It was fun somehow, and sexy too. After awhile he'd say the "we're not queer" routine and I'd say my lines and all was right with the universe for a while longer. Lately, it isn't unusual for me to get a boner from the bodily contact and that was new, and nice... boners always feel good.

After bidding goodbye to Carl and the gay sex experiment I seemed to be appreciating Chubby more in all kinds of ways. Maybe it was partially because I'd realized, while waited in the hospital after the fight, how much he's a part of my life. It's odd how perspectives change... for example, we've been giving each other haircuts since we were fourteen years old and as of late I like it that he fusses with my hair, where before it annoyed me. Now I'm disappointed when he's done my haircut in only a half hour. I wanted to fuss with his hair too, except now he says most of the window cleaning guys have buzz cuts because of the heat and that's what he wants too. Fuck, buzzcuts only take only four or five minutes. It was also making me jealous how he's all the time talking about the boys he works with... especially that kid, Ricky, from his homeroom, who got him the job. It use to be all Chubby and me... now he knows a group of guys that I'm not part of.

Chubby still likes the cuddling and he still loves the legs shaving so I try to pay more attention to those activities then I use to. I'm always asking him to check out my feet too, "Chubby, do my feet seem alright to you. The arch hurts."... bullshit like that. Chubby get's busy playing with my bare feet and licking them and all his foot fetish stuff. That's what I want now, Chubby's attention. I want Chubby to begin staring at me all the time like he use to in the old days. It just isn't the same anymore.

I'm back to fingering my hole while jerking off again too... again pretending the mystery boy is fucking me with all the details of old. Carl is never on my mind and he most certainly isn't the mystery boy. I wondered at times if Chubby would ever consider it... being my mystery boy, I mean. Not too long ago I was afraid of losing our friendship or altering it somehow by being sexually involved together. Now, the friendship is already altered with Chubby's job and his new friends, so, so what? So, maybe Chubby and I could experiment with a little "buddy" gay sex, that's all I'm saying.

There is a major problem with that though. Chubby has always carried-on about not being gay. He's not a slave to facts, or to reality for that matter... Chubby sees things the way he wants to see them and if we did some buddy sex, then he wouldn't be able to go into that "we're not queers" routine of his. No... the more I think about this, Chubby would have to be the one to approach it. Of course, maybe I've been misreading him for years... maybe I'm the only gay one here. So what if he gets off humping my leg, teens do circle jerks for years too, and few of them carry it any further.

Screw it! I'll keep my eyes open and see if an opportunity presents itself. Carl did one thing for me for sure... he cleared the way for me to explore my sexuality a bit. I was in a holding pattern until Carl came along... the fat fuck! That fight with the Chavez brothers was significant too because it was the beginning of my new appreciation for Chubby. Appreciate him in more than just my "best bud" way, I mean. Yesterday, after dinner and after our homework was done, we did haircuts for each other... the Red Sox on TV in the background. He wanted the buzz cut, but to drag it out a little I did my version of a burr haircut which Chubby liked OK.

He went upstairs to take a shower right after that and five minutes later Manny hits a grand slam homerun. Manny Ramirez is Chubby's favorite baseball player so I ran upstairs to tell him about it. Chubby's just coming out of the bathroon after his shower, drying his short hair, completely naked which is normally no big deal, except now I'm hooked on looking at Chub's body.

I tell him about the grandslam, we high five and start discussing the Yankee series coming up next week. And I'm thinking... Chubby is the boner king of seventeen year old boys, but I've never seen him get a boner looking at me naked. That's more evidence that maybe I got him all wrong, and he doesn't have a "thing" for me after all. BUT, even more surprising then that thought, is this one... I got the boner! Chubby's the boner king, but my dick is the one that turned into a stiffy looking at his naked body... recently that's what's been happening. So, damn!... what's going on here? Total role reversal, or what?

I can't stop looking at Chubby. He's small, like I've said he's five feet, six inches tall and all of about one hundred and fifteen pounds. That's little alright, but everything about him is perfectly proportioned... he's just a smaller version of a very toned, smooth, perfect, regular sized teenage boy's body. He has muscle definition in his biceps and calfs, a tight belly with a few ab muscles showing and a twenty-seven inch waist. Nice pecs too. Needless to say, hairless body... the only hair would be on his legs, but they're shaved. His body isn't the clssic V-tapered body type, but very well put together none-the-less. All natural too... Chubby's never done any weight training.

His cock is the perfect size for the rest of him too. Very nice sac of nuts and a neat looking pubic patch. His rounded buttocks are so squeezable and that fantastic olive complected skin tone, without a blemish. Ah jeez, I got that boner thinking about getting naked and laying in bed with him... that's what's in my head. His face with the sunburned nose from the sun, cleaning windows outside... it's so cute, all those small facial features are too, and the grin with his big eyes and that butch, burr haircut. Ya know what?... he looks like some perfect teen boy from the fifties or sixties or something. Like one of those wholesome, innocent, clean cut boys we saw pictures of in my grandfather's high school year book that time... as a boy Pop Pop went to the same High School that we go to now, sixty some years ago.

I said, "You didn't go to high school with my Pop Pop did ya?" Chubby, pulling on some jogging shorts said, " What the fuck? You OK, Dylan? You're looking kinda goofy, or something." I shook my head and said, "Sorry... spacing out on ya, Dude". He went down to the rec-room to watch more of the game and I took my shower... jerking-off under the warm spray and this time I didn't fantasize about my mystery boy fucking me... instead, I thought about Chubby's hot little body. We'd stopped sleeping together a couple weeks ago and I missed it now. Why can't I appreciate stuff when I'm living it instead of yearning for it after it's over. I realize how great I have something when it's too late... Duh!, that's me.

The fight was the reason Chubby wanted me to sleep with him a couple weeks back... other than that, sleeping together is a fairly rare occurrence. The only time we get to sleep together normally is when one of our Mom's has a boyfriend over for the evening, which they try not to do too often. The boy belonging to that Mom, stays with the boy belonging to the other Mom, on those nights. I use to see it as a bit of a pain in the ass, but now I can't wait for one of those nights so I can feel Cubby's body against mine... you know, now that I've finally come to appreciate his body. The boy is HOT. Damn! I'm coming out of my shell in a hurry. Oh well, it was early to bed alone, tonight... and next morning back to the routine.

As I mentioned, it was a hot month of May in New England and after school today the temperature cracked eighty. You need to stay hydrated when running in the heat so I gorged myself with water or gatorade before starting my four mile run. Also, on hot days I bring a bottle of water with me to drink along the run. Funny thing... when I drink extra liquids I sweat a lot, but still need to pee a lot. What's up with that? I'd have thought the extra sweat would take care of the extra water, but it doesn't seem to.

Anyway, at the two mile mark there's a sign on a tree pointing to a side trail that leads to a rest area with a lavatory. Today I had to pee real bad and I veered off onto that side trail to take a leak. I didn't need the lavatory, just needed to get off the trail in the unlikely event of another runner coming by and seeing me peeing. There are female runners too, ya know.... and perverts. And the truth is, I like to pee in private.

The trail is a hundred yards long and then, around a group of trees, the rest area. I slowed down and was walking when I came around the tree group ... six feet from me a man was pissing up against a tree. Strong stream of pale yellow piss splattering off the tree trunk. The man appeared to be in his twenties... he was wearing running shorts, a sleeveless T-shirt, and New Balance running sneakers. He looked to be in fantastic shape, very muscular but not grossly so... rather, in a lean way. A little over six feet tall, I'd guess... short brown hair and, when he looked up it startled me to see how very handsome a young man he actually was. Bright blue eyes... eyes that sort of glowed. His hairy arms and legs weren't too cool and neither was the medium sized tatoo on his bicep that read SEMPER FI, but all the rest of him was, so those few faults could easily be excused... that's if, ya know, if someone were keeping score or something.

It's odd how the mind can register all that detail so quickly, but the thing I stared at the most was his cock. It had to be eight inches long and fatter than mine. He held his cock in his fist to direct the piss stream... I use two fingers and my thumb, and the second finger is probably made redundant by the first one. I knew instinctively that I'd stared at his dick a fraction of a second too long and I made myself look away. The man said, "Come over here, use my tree". That might sound like a friendly invitation ... but the way this guy said it made it sound more like a command. Frowning and in sort of a trance, I walked over... not looking at him.

He was shaking the last few drops off his cock as he said, "Now, my turn to stare at yours". The thought entered my head that maybe I should run, but that would be insulting to him if there wasn't any reason to run, and what if he can run faster than me. No, just cooperate and stay alert. I don't have a zipper on my running shorts so I pulled the front of my shorts, along with the cup of my jock down below my balls. Not looking at the man, I took hold of my limp dick and concentrated on peeing... sometimes trying to get the pee stream started is a problem for me when other guys are nearby and this guy was right next to me. The longer it went without starting, the more likely it wasn't going to. Damn!! With him staring at me the pee would not come out even though I had to piss badly. Mumbling, "I guess I don't have to go" I began to pull my shorts back up.

The man said, "Oh no you don't" and he took hold of my dick and stepped behind me, still holding it with his thumb and index finger. I gasped and took a step right back into him. Now, I couldn't catch my breath.... short, quick breaths... like I was panting.

He appeared not to notice as he casually put a hairy arm around my neck, under my chin, and used it to hold me up tight to his chest. Breathlessly he said, "Relax and you'll pee. Go ahead and relax. Relax, goddamn it!" He seemed annoyed at me because I couldn't pee.

His five o'clock shadow scraped my cheek as he whispered in my ear, "OK, shhh. Just keep your body up against mine and do what I fucking say, OK? Relax!" Then calmer, "That's all ya gotta do. Stay up against me now." With that he took his arm from around my neck... I stayed like he'd said, up against him. With his free hand he began rubbing my belly down near my cock... all the time saying, "Close your eyes and relax, close your eyes and relax, shhh, just close your eyes and relax."

My eyes were fluttering, my heart was pounding too hard and fast, and there wasn't any way I was going to be able to relax. But he appeared so confident that this would work it made me listened to his words. After he said that relax phrase..."close your eyes and relax"... a number of time I started thinking about just his breathless voice and those words... like the mantra thingie I get into sometimes. And all of a sudden, a pee stream started, slowly at first... and then got faster, and then the stream was fast and fat. The piss was coming out hard too, like a horse piss. The man was still holding my cock and I had both my hands holding onto his hairy wrist. That's just where my hands ended up.

He said, "See? Listen to me next time." Unconsciously, I nodded my head, but whoa!! I really needed that piss. After a nice long pee I shuddered my shoulders and he flicked my dick a few times to get the last drops to drop. Then he said, "Yeah, that felt good didn't it?" I went, "Un huh" in a real low voice. He scratched the side of my jaw with his whiskers again putting his lips right on my ear and whispering, "Come over here with me now. This will feel good too."

Hesitating and shaking my head "no" twice, without speaking, caused him to say, in a louder voice, "Yes, you need to come over here with me." And, leading me by my dick, he walked us to a nearby, low bench... me taking short, quick steps to keep up. Sitting down on the bench, he said, "For my safety, clasp your hands behind your back. Go ahead, do it". His voice was very authoritative, but not crude, threatening, or especially loud. I held hands with myself behind my back and he started sucking my cock. "OH!" I exclaimed.. but, I didn't move... with good reason.

He had my nuts firmly in one hand, not hurting me... a little tighter than was comfortable, but not actually hurting. As he sucked my cock he'd occasionally squeeze my nuts hard enough to make be squeak out a sound and when I did, those amazing blue eyes of his would look up and open wider. I wasn't sure what that meant... I tried not to make any more sounds though. After all, the man had my nuts totally under his control and, also, I'd never been sucked-off before. It was a very unique sensation in a wildly unique situation. He got me hard by bobbing his head back and forth so that his lips massaged my cock from head to root. When it firmed up enough, he licked it for a while... and then sucked on the head of it until I couldn't keep myself from making quiet "Oh Ah Oh" sounds.

The guy let go of my nuts and pulled down his shorts and got out that long penis of his. Now it was my eyes that opened wide as that long cock of his got longer. He stroked it steadily without slacking off his sucking and licking of mine. I was huffing quick snorts of air.... never felt, or saw, anything like this before. Oh my God, my cock was alive with sensations, my nuts were buzzing. I looked down again and did a double-take... he was wearing a wedding band on his left hand. "He's married?" was just a quick passing thought because my cock felt so good I had to concentrate on that.

It was shiny and slimy with spit and truly as hard as I've ever seen it, longer too... maybe past the six inch mark. It was longer and seemed skinnier looking because of that. Different than I can ever remember it looking... felt fantastic. He pushed his face into my stomach so that his nose poked through my pubes and indented my belly... with that the head of my cock went right into his throat. He did something with his throat muscles and I was dancing on my toes, one foot than the other, going, "AH AH AH AH AH" .

He had me just on the verge of cuming and boy did I want to, but at the last second he pulled up off my cock, took in a long, deep breath, then continued with the long laps up the shaft of my boner in time with the stroking of his own long one. Shortly, with just his lips on my cock head and his tongue going a mile a minute all over and around it... then his busy tongue went down under the uncut foreskin around the head, and that was it for me. I unclasped my hands from behind my back, grabbed onto his muscular shoulders, and humped into his mouth, spewing lots of creamy teen cum while making high, weird, sounds from my throat. Three seconds later he blasted off with his own climax which spattered cum on my leg from my knee to my crotch... the head of his long boner actually poked into my knee at one point... then a second shot of cum hit the front of my ankle. He made grunting, smacking sounds as he fired off his climax... continuing to suck my softening cock.

The guy sucked me dry, swallowing ever drop of my cum.

There wasn't even a drip on his lips. He pulled his head away from my limp dick slowly, took in another one of his long breaths, stood up slowly while pulling his shorts and jock up with the same motion. Then in a calm conversational voice he said, "That was delicious. I run Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays only. Be here three PM, sharp, on Friday." After saying that, he looked me in the eyes for five seconds, squinted his glowing deep blue eyes, and nodded his head like he'd confirmed something with himself. I was a statue, not even blinking. Thinking he was done, I started to pull up my jock, but he held my hand to stop me, saying, "Make sure you take care of those pubes before Friday. I don't like sticking my nose in a boy's bush". I frowned, wondering what he meant by "take care of my pubes"?

He noticed my confusion and with his index finger drew a line low down on my belly, in my pubic area... it was the outline of a little half circle above my cock. "You can leave a little bit of bush just above your dick if you want... that's an OK look, but make sure they're no more than half an inch long. That's all. Shave the rest smooth." I couldn't think of a response. He said, "Stand up straight. I hate slouching boys. Hands behind you." I did it on reflex... or something. My cock and balls, still hanging out in the open... and all over my body I still felt the buzz from that thrilling climax. Awesome feeling. I looked at this handsome young man and thought, "He's early twenties for sure... no more than twenty-two or twenty-three... maybe younger."

He looked right back at me and said, "Avert your eyes!" I looked down and he squeezed the back of my neck and ran the palm of his hand up the back of my head , then over the top messing my short hair. "Just stand there... straighten-up, god damnit!" Jeez, I couldn't stand any straighter. He used both hands to feel my shoulders and said, "You are one hellava good looking kid! Look at those full lips and those sexy, bedroom eyes. Fuck did you come from anyway, didya drop out of the sky? Huh?"

It didn't seem like he was interested in my response to anything, so I did a smart thing and kept my mouth shut. He was feeling down both my biceps, mumbling, "Bet you don't even "lift" and yet ya got yourself some nice guns here." He felt down my body, from just under my armpits and then a hand on each of my buttocks and a squeeze of both buttocks at once. "Jesus Christ, kid... that's the hottest ass I ever felt on man or woman. Love the shaved legs too. You on the swim team in High School, I guess?" I didn't answer that either.

He put the palm of his hand on my forehead and pushed up my short hair, I kept looking down. "This is beyond belief... ya got a better ass and a prettier face then my wife. And, she'd kill to have that shade of blond hair you got there. God damn!" Out of the corner of my eye I saw he had this wry grin on his face that seemed to say, "Well, lookie here what I found". Letting go of my body except for a hand cupped behind my neck he seemed to be giving me one last once over... he said, "OK kid, you're kinda special alright and I'm going to treat you special too.. and make you feel especially good." He took his hand from behind my neck and adjusted his package. I saw the jockstrap outline in his running shorts pushing out the front.

He took another deep breath, then pulled my running shorts and my jockstrap cup up for me and patted my ass. Picked-up and handed me by water bottle, saying, "Be here Friday, three PM sharp.. without your boy bush, your pubes. Bring everything else you got though... including that pouting look on your face." He patted my cheek and I felt my face blushing." Chuckling, he said, "You're too much, kid! OK, you take off first. I'll give you a head start so we don't have to run together. I don't like running with anyone. Go ahead, take off." And this time he swatted my ass very hard and off I flew... going fast, my arms pumping, my legs flying, like I was running a hundred yard dash.

In three minutes I'd exhausted myself... I was way down the trail and finally had to slow down to jogging speed. My breathing was raspy and hard, sweat dripping off my face and wetting through my T shirt as I jogged on without thinking about anything. My objective was to stay ahead of him, didn't want that guy thinking I was purposely waiting for him. He said he didn't like running with anyone and that includes me so I picked up the pace again and after a few minutes had a painful stitch in my side. This won't work so I baled out at the short cut.

Cutting through some weeds and up a little incline, emerging on the back portion of the Super Stop & Shop Market's parking lot. This is over a mile short of my normal ending spot. Slowing down gradually to a walking speed and then I stopping completely at the back of the building. I took my sneaker and sweat sock off to pore water on my leg and scrub with my hand at the guy's dried cum. This was the most unbelievable thing that's ever happened to me. First Carl, and that was weird enough... but that guy at the rest stop, what to make of him?

I rubbed my leg vigorously, getting most of his cum off. Looking at my hand for a second, then looking around to see no one was back there with me... I smelled my hand then, but didn't detect any cum odor. My mind was all fucked up.. Nothing to do but move on. After putting my sock and sneaker back on, I started to slowly jog around to the front of the Market, heading for home.

to be continued....

Donny Mumford thinkat20@yahoo.com