GROOVY KIND OF LOVE *******************

For the disclaimer, please read Part 1.

This story may be reprinted anywhere on the Net, as long

as it's done intact, without changing a single word,

and preserving my copyright & Email address. And that's

Copyright 2001 ThePecman@yahoo.com. All rights reserved. -----------------------------------------------------------

Chapter 12

I rode home in silence, while Sky and Melissa regaled his dad with the story of how I'd suddenly turned into a rock star at the dance.

"Dad," enthused Sky, "it's like Wil is Clark Kent, and he just turned into Superman!"

"Maybe it's the glasses," laughed Cyn. She and Melissa giggled.

Shit, I thought. I'd had my glasses off all night, and I barely noticed it. I pulled them out of my coat pocket and put them back on.

"Say, Dad," said Sky. "Do you think you could get Wil a deal on contact lenses?" he said, giving me a wink.

Dr. Jones glanced at me in the mirror. "Well, normally that's against the rules. Technically, contacts should work fine with Wil's prescription, and we've had patients as young as ten wear them."

Cyn gently slipped my glasses off my face and put them back in my pocket, then gave me a little peck on the cheek.

Dr. Jones laughed. "But to tell you the truth, we just got some new samples in for testing, a new easier-to-wear type. They're supposed to revolutionize the eye-care business. Tell you what, Wil," he said, glancing at me again as we sped down MacDill Boulevard. "If your parents will give their permission, we'll put you on the list to get a free pair for testing. You get to wear them at no charge for six months, as long as you agree to getting an exam every six to eight weeks or so. Sound like a deal?"

I nodded. Geeez, I thought. I could finally stop looking like a four-eyed geek for a change, I thought.

"Will they work in the pool, Dr. Jones?" I asked.

He laughed. "No. I'm afraid no lens can do that. But you can't swim and wear glasses, either, right?"

"Yeah, you're right. I could live with that, I guess," I said, thinking it over.

For the rest of the ride home, I thought about how great it was to sing up on stage. Man, I thought. What if I could become part of something like The Beatles? Man -- the money, the crowds, the girls... The girls.

Ronnie.

I felt a pang. I thought about him and his brother Rick. I looked up and saw Sky looking at me, and he grinned and pantomimed a blow job again, poking the inside corner of his cheek with his tongue, then giggled. God, I thought, sighing to myself. Maybe it really was Sky that I loved the most.

We pulled up in Cynthia's driveway, and I walked her to the door. "I guess this is the obligatory kiss goodnight," I said, smiling.

She smiled and put her arms around me, then slipped a hand down my pants and gently squeezed me. "That's unless you have time for more," she giggled.

"Cyn!" I hissed. "Dr. Jones is gonna see us!"

"He can't see anything. Oh, god, I want you so badly, Wil," she murmured. "Please say you'll come by tomorrow night!"

I nodded, then she kissed me quickly, pulled her hand back up and smiled at me. "Thanks for everything, Wil," she whispered. "I mean it. Merry Christmas."

I nodded. "Merry Christmas, Cyn!" I called, and ran back to the car.

Sky had already gotten in the back with Melissa, so I hopped in the front seat and closed the door. Dr. Jones turned to me as he drove down the street.

"I think you'd be a good candidate for these new contacts, William," he said. "Your prescription has no astigmatism, so they should work perfectly. Give me a call at the office, after we're back from vacation, and we'll talk about it further."

I nodded, then glanced back at Sky and Melissa, who seemed to be deep in conversation. Sky whispered something to Melissa, then her eyes widened as she looked at me.

Gee, I wonder what they're talking about, I mused silently.

After we dropped off Melissa at her place, Dr. Jones made the turn down El Prado and pulled into my driveway.

"I gotta talk to Wil for a sec', Dad," said Sky as he got out of the back seat.

"Just make it quick, Schuyler," Dr. Jones sighed, irritatably.

We walked up the sidewalk to the front porch, and stopped at the door.

"What were you and Melissa talking about?" I said, curiously.

"Oh, nothin'," he laughed. "She just said she was glad to find out you weren't a fag."

I felt like punching him. "What the fuck did you tell her?" I hissed.

"Simmer down, man!" he said, with a hurt expression on his face. "I'd never tell her anything! You know that!"

I could see he was telling the truth. We both knew each other too well to ever get away with lying to each other. I nodded and felt my anger fade.

"She told me she'd heard that you were spending a lotta time with Rick and Ronnie, so she figured you were... you know..." Sky pantomimed a limp wrist, and I slugged him in the shoulder, hard.

"Hey!" he said, rubbing his arm and giving me a pained expression. "Cut that out!"

"Rick and Ron aren't homos!" I said, icily.

"Wil, it's me," he said, evenly. "I know you didn't learn how to suck guys off just by doin' it to yourself."

My face reddened. "Ronnie's a real cool guy, Sky," I said, defensively. "You just don't know him like I do."

"Yeah, like I'd wanna hang out with either of those two bozos," he snapped.

I shot him an angry glare. "Shut up, Sky!"

He grinned. "Good luck with Cyn tomorrow night, stud!" he said.

"Don't remind me!" I moaned, as I opened the front door.

"I've got some rubbers if you need 'em! I'll wrap 'em up and give 'em to you as a Christmas present!" he whispered loudly, and ran back to the car.

I rolled my eyes, slammed the door shut and walked inside. My parents were in the living room, sitting up and watching a rerun of the 'Johnny Carson' show on TV. They looked over at me and smiled. I glanced over at the tree, and noticed there were already about a dozen colorfully-wrapped packages under the tree.

"Did you kids have a nice time?" my mom asked.

Oh, nicer than you'd ever wanna know, I thought.

"Yeah, it was great, Mom," I said wearily, ripping off the hated tie, which had been strangling me all night.

"That's nice, Wil," said my Dad.

I took a step or two forward, then paused.

My Dad turned to me, expectantly. "Something wrong, son?" he asked.

I hesitated, then took my glasses out of my pocket and held them out in my hand. "Uh, Dad -- do you think I could... well -- get rid of these glasses and get... y' know... contacts?" I held my breath.

Dad sighed. "Son, we're already going to have to spend a lot of money on your teeth. Your sister's teeth are already costing me a fortune. We can't do that and throw away money on luxuries like contact lenses, too. Besides, you're much too young. Those are for adults."

"No," I pleaded. "Dr. Jones said I could have 'em free, for six months!"

"Really?" he mused.

"They're experimental. Some new kinda deal. He says I'm a perfect candidate for them."

My mom thought for a moment. "Well, if Ray says they're alright, dear," she said, "I don't see the problem."

Dad nodded. "We'll talk about it next week, Wil."

My face broke out in a huge grin. I knew what that meant -- that was usually his way of saying yes. "Thanks, Dad!" I said, patting his shoulder. My mother smiled and nodded.

I bounded up the stairs, tore off my suit, and fell into bed. God, I still ached all over. I poked a few of my bruises, but they seemed to feel a little bit better. I got up and took a good look at myself in the mirror. Hmmm, not bad. They were definitely fading. I couldn't see my back too well, but they looked OK. I reached down and checked the family jewels. OW! Those definitely still hurt like hell. I'm not surprised, I thought, given the workout I've had over the last few days.

Shit. I was gonna see Cyn tomorrow night. I fell back into bed. What was that going to be like? I thought. I couldn't go through with this. Sure, I liked her, and she was really cute, and I know she liked me... Suddenly, I felt a familiar twinge from my groin. DOWN boy, I thought. There's no way I can still be horny!

I looked down. Apparently, 'Little Wil' had other ideas, as it inched up my belly and crossed my belly button, then rose up off my stomach. In ten seconds, I was stiff as a rock and throbbing steadily in time with my heartbeat. I sighed, lay back on my bed, and started up the same old rhythm. Oh, god, that was great, I thought. In less than a minute, I started curling my toes with my impending orgasm.

Suddenly, there was a knock at my door. I quickly yanked up my bedspread, and yelled, "WHO IS IT?"

Sharon cracked the door open an inch. "It's the phone, Wil!" For you!"

I grinned. Well, at least she was knocking, now. "Who's calling me at 11:45?" I asked.

"It's Ronnie! He says it's important!"

Shit. "Close the door, Sharon, and give me a second."

She closed the door, and I jumped up and pulled on some shorts and a T-shirt. I shoved my erection to the side so it wouldn't be too visible, and prayed it wouldn't slip out of my pant-leg as I ran downstairs to the kitchen.

"Wil, please tell your friends not to call past ten o'clock!" yelled my dad as I sailed around the banister.

"I will, Dad!" I yelled, as I ran to the kitchen. Breathlessly, I picked up the phone. "What the hell do you want, Ronnie?" I whispered angrily.

"I'm sorry to call so late, Wil. But... I got some really bad news!" he said, choking back his tears.

Fuck! What could it be? It couldn't be Scott Michaels. He was definitely out of commission.

"Jesus, I'm sorry, Ronnie," I said, apologetically. "What is it?"

"It's my Uncle Bob," he said. "He says we're... we've gotta move next week! To... to Texas!"

My heart stopped. "Oh, Ronnie," I whispered. "Shit." For once, I was absolutely dumb-struck.

"I can't leave, Wil! I... I love you," he cried, finally letting it all out.

Tears welled up in my eyes. "I know, babe," I said. Shit, I thought. 'Babe'? Oh, fuck it. "Ronnie, it's gonna be okay."

"No, it's not!" he wailed. "You're my best friend! I can't leave you."

I nodded. I guess I was his best friend, just like Sky was my best friend. Well, maybe not exactly like Ronnie was with me.

"Look, Ronnie, can we talk about this tomorrow?" I said, exhausted.

He sniffed. "Okay," he said, in a small voice. "Can you... can you spend the night tomorrow night? You know, for Christmas?"

"Sure... Oh, wait, Ronnie -- shit, I can't," I said, closing my eyes and silently cursing. "I've... got somebody else I've gotta see. I already promised."

Ronnie was silent. "It's Sky, right?" he whispered.

"No. I don't wanna talk about it."

"It's that girl, isn't it?" he hissed. "The one from History? That slut, Cynthia Anderson."

I gritted my teeth. "Shut up about Cynthia, Ronnie."

"I knew she was a slut," he said, angrily. "Rickie knew, too, but we didn't wanna tell you."

"Then why are you telling me now?" I snapped.

"I told you, Wil," he sniffed. "I know you really wanna be with us."

"I'm not a homo," I snarled. "I like you and all, Ronnie, but..."

He was silent. "Goodbye, Wil," he said, finally, and hung up the phone.

I stood there and stared at the receiver, then hung up. Fuck, I thought. I walked back to the foot of the stairs, and Mom and Dad looked at me while Carson's audience laughed in the background on TV.

"I'm sorry about that," I said, sheepishly. "Ronnie's family is going to move to Texas in a few days, and he's freaking out."

"Oh, that's a shame," said my Mom. "He seems to like you an awful lot."

But it's mainly my dick he likes, Mom, I thought. I trudged up the stairs. "Goodnight, Mom -- 'night, Dad." They muttered their goodnights.

I closed my door, this time remembering to lock it, then I pulled off my shorts and shirt, and fell back into bed. Where was I? Oh, yeah.

In less than thirty seconds, I was hard again and began to pant heavily. Oh, Jesus, I thought, as I stroked myself with both hands. Cyn, please suck me! I replayed the sight of her face in my lap at the golf course, and felt my balls tighten. I was getting close. God, she was beautiful in the moonlight.

Suddenly, her image faded from my fantasy and was replaced by Ronnie. "I love you, Wil," he was saying, and he kissed me deeply, overcome with passion. His brother Rick was in my fantasy, too, and we were all naked, wrestling and rolling around on the floor of their room. I closed my eyes and felt a surge. My heart raced and I felt a thin sheet of sweat on my chest.

As I entered the home stretch, Ronnie's face melted away, only to be replaced by another. I couldn't recognize it at first, but then I knew: it was Pete, the handsome guitarist from the concert a few hours earlier. I began to moan softly as I imagined what he looked like naked. I thrusted uncontrollably at the vision of the two of us up on stage, only this time, the audience was gone and we were tearing each other's clothes off. His long blond hair fell over my face as we hungrily kissed, then he wrapped his muscular arms around me. We fell to the stage floor and put our faces in each other's groins, and began sucking as hard as we could.

Suddenly, I went off like a rocket. I had my biggest climax of the evening, moaning aloud as several streams of white goo shot past my face and splattered on the headboard of my bed, then on my cheek and my neck. Three, four more jets, and I lay there completely exhausted.

Once I regained my composure and caught my breath, I was puzzled. Why had a vision of this total stranger suddenly popped into my head? After a minute, I reached for a tissue and wiped myself and the bed off. I sat up, found my suit pants, and pulled out the piece of paper with his name on it, and read it again:

"I saw you out back tonight. You're fucking cool, man! Call me anytime."

I closed my eyes and thought of his face again, then folded up the piece of paper and stashed it behind my desk drawers with my secret stash of Playboys. I closed the drawer, then fell back into bed, exhausted. I was dead asleep in five minutes.

Chapter 13

Wednesday morning I awoke with a smile on my face. It was Christmas. Bobby Helms was singing 'Jingle Bell Rock' on my clock radio, part of WLCY's annual 'all rock & roll holiday hits marathon' for 1968. The clock face said it was already 9:10AM.

After the events of the last few days, I was amazed that I felt as good as I did. I slipped on a T-shirt and a pair of shorts and trudged down the stairs to the living room. The place looked like a bomb had hit it. Sharon had already opened a half-dozen boxes, and wrapping paper and ribbons littered the living room floor. I could see she'd already pulled out several Barbie dolls and put together some kind of miniature cardboard beach house set, and seemed to be preparing some kind of elaborate dinner party.

"Merry Christmas, Sherrie," I said, smiling.

She turned and grinned back at me. "You got some neat stuff, too, Wil," she said. "Here, open this one first," she said, shyly. "It's from me."

I nodded and tore open the wrapping paper. "Wow," I said. "This is really cool. The Voyage to the Bottom of the Sea model kit! Thanks, Sherrie!" She laughed, and went back to her dolls.

This sub would look really good all painted up, I thought.

Shit. Ronnie and Rick.

"Merry Christmas, kids!" My mom and dad were coming down the stairs. I saw a weird little creature hanging on for dear life on Mom's arm.

"IS THAT FOR ME?" squealed Sharon at the top of her lungs.

"Shhhh!" said my mom, as she reached the bottom of the stairs. "Be very quiet, Sharon. Santa brought you a little kitty. We kept it upstairs last night so it wouldn't be alone. Don't make any loud noises or you'll scare it to death."

I stood next to my father as my little sister scampered over and scooped up the little fur-ball into her arms. Dad grinned at me and whispered, "the damned thing kept us up for the past three hours." I laughed.

Sharon looked ecstatic. "I'm going to name you Samantha," she said. "Like the witch on Bewitched."

I walked over and scritched the kitten on its head. It looked up at me like it was terrified, then its eyes softened and it began to purr.

"She likes you, Wil!" said my sister. The tiny animal nosed out and crawled across Sharon's arm and jumped over to my shoulder.

"Help!" I cried, partly for comedic effect. "What is this thing? A Siamese? Mom, am I allergic to Siamese cats?"

Mom laughed. "You're not allergic to anything, Wil. Look, it really does like you!"

The cat began nuzzling my neck and licking my face. Great. It looked like I'd made a new friend.

"Listen, folks," I said, wincing as I carefully extracted the little feline's claws from my shirt. "I kind of gotta run. Ronnie's moving to Texas in a few days, and I'd like to go over there for a couple of hours, if it's okay with you." I handed the cat back to Sharon.

My mother looked hurt. "Honey," she said, "we wanted you to open up your presents. Can't this wait?"

"Oh, alright," I said, reluctantly. There only seemed to be three or four presents with my name on it, but one of them was rather large.

"Open this one first, Wil!" cried Sharon, who pushed the biggest package out on the carpet, while almost dropping her cat, which seemed to be permanently fastened to her shoulder.

"Careful, Sharon!" called my mother.

My dad walked up to me and put his hand on my shoulder. "We both thought you deserved something special for finally making the Honor Roll, son," he said, smiling broadly.

"I hope it's a one-way ticket back to LaFontaine," I muttered to myself. I still missed being with my friends back at the gifted kids school across town. 'Brainiac school,' as Sky called it.

I tore open the package and was stunned. It was an all-in- one super-deluxe Lafayette stereo system, complete with an 8-track player, turntable, tuner, speakers... the works!

"WOW!" I exclaimed, completely bowled over. "Gosh! Mom... Dad... This is just too cool!"

The knobs gleamed, and it looked like there were hundreds of buttons, knobs, and jacks on the thing. It looked even better than the one back in Rick & Ronnie's room.

Shit -- there wasn't much time left. I had to get going.

"We knew you'd like it, son," said my father. "You've been listening to that little cheap radio of yours for years, and we thought it needed replacing. Your friend Sky told us you were really a music fan, and this was something you'd really appreciate."

"It's great, Dad," I said. "But l really gotta go see Ronnie. He's only going to be here a few more days, and then he and his brother are gone forever." I started for the door.

"Alright," called my mom, " but don't forget -- Christmas dinner is at 3PM at your grandmother's house! You must be back here not a minute later than 2:30, sharp!"

I rolled my eyes. "Jeez, do I have to go?" I whined.

"Yes, you have to go, William!" muttered my father, as he walked back towards the tree. "Come on, son. It's only once a year."

My mother smiled at me. "Wil, the whole family will be there. You'll get to see your cousins and your aunt and uncle."

Another stupid dinner with those idiots, I thought. "What time will we be home by?" I asked.

"Oh, the usual -- 7:30, 8:00," she said. "What's your hurry?" my mom asked, suspiciously.

"Oh, nothing," I said, grabbing two packages and opening the door. "I'll be back by 2:00, I promise!"

Jesus, I thought, as my bike bounced over the curb to Rick and Ronnie's house. There sure were a lot of expensive cars here in the driveway. I counted two Mercedes, a Cadillac, plus a big Rolls-Royce with a fancy canvas cover on it over on the left. I let my bike rest on the side of a tree, then ran up to the doorbell and rang it. The maid let me in, and I noticed the living room was filled with more than a dozen relatives. Most of the men were wearing cowboy hats. I could smell the faint aroma of a wonderful dinner in the air, but Rick and Ronnie were nowhere to be found.

"Pssst!"

I turned to my right and saw Rick through the doorway to the den.

"We're in here!" he said, waving me over.

I ran over and he closed the swinging door. Ron was sitting on the corner of their pool table, idly rolling a billiard ball and letting it bounce back off a side rail.

"Ronnie! I got here as quickly as I could, man," I said, apologetically. "Merry Christmas, guys." I laid the two small packages on the pool table.

Ron hopped off the table and hugged me, then began sobbing. "Mom says we're almost outta money," he cried. "We've gotta go live on Uncle Bob's ranch, just outside of Dallas."

Rick nodded. "He's a mil-mil-millionaire," he said. "Oil money."

"Black gold," I chuckled. "Texas tea!"

"Shut up, Wil!" wailed Ronnie. "This isn't funny."

Shit. I thought for sure he'd appreciate that one. "Is this for real, Ronnie?" I asked.

He nodded, sniffling. "We leave in four days, a week before school starts back up."

Rick sat in a chair next to us. "I hate T-T-Texas," he said angrily, turning away.

"Look guys," I said, trying to be as optimistic as I could. "Here's some stuff I got you for Christmas."

Rick and Ron trotted over and tore open the wrapping paper. "Wow!" said Rick, examining the flying saucer artwork on the model kit box. "This is one I honestly d-d-don't have yet! Thanks, Wil."

"Warning, warning!" said Ronnie, in a dead-on impersonation of the Lost in Space robot. He held it up to my shoulder. "Warning, Wil Larson! That does not compute."

I rolled my eyes and laughed. "Shaddup, you bubble-headed booby," I said, playfully poking him in the chest.

Ron looked at the robot, then back up at me. "I love you, Wil," he said in his own voice. He leaned forward and I let him kiss me, then I kissed him back.

Fuck, I thought. They may get me crying, if this keeps up much longer.

"Hey, kids!" drawled a voice from the other room.

Ronnie jumped away from me and stared as a man wearing a gray cowboy hat burst through the door.

"Oh -- howdy there, son!" he said, walking in and looking up at me. He stuck out his hand and we shook. "Ah'm Uncle Bob," he said with a drawl, squeezing my hand hard enough to make me wince. "Bob Lannigan. I'm the boys' uncle."

"This is Wil," said Ronnie. "He's a friend of mine from school."

"Oh, yeah," said Uncle Bob. "The boys talk about 'cha all the time! You look like a fine, upstandin' young man. Maybe y'all can come out to th' ranch and visit sometime." He looked down at the two brothers. "You boys best get washed up and ready for supper, ya hear?"

They nodded meekly, and the Texan walked off. "Nice meetin' ya, Wil'!" he called, pushing through the door to the group just outside.

"He's a jerk," muttered Ronnie. "I hate him."

"C'mon, Ronnie," I said. "You've got to have a place to live. If the guy's a millionaire, I can't see how it's going to be all that bad."

"We don't have any friends there," he said, his eyes filling with tears. "And you're not there."

I felt a pang. Jesus, maybe I really did love the little guy after all. I hugged him. "You'll make new friends in Dallas," I said, trying to convince myself.

"Not like you," he said.

Rick put his hand on my shoulder. Shit, even he was crying! "We-we-we really liked you, Wil," he stammered.

I grinned. "You mean me, or 'little Wil?'" I laughed.

Rick grinned and nodded. "Both of you," he said.

"What's your last day here?" I asked.

Ronnie started blubbering again, but Rick told him to shut up. "We're pa-pa-packing right now," said the older brother. "We're leaving Sunday morning."

I nodded. "Well, that means we have about four days," I grinned. "Maybe we can make the most of it."

Ronnie stopped crying and looked up at me slyly. "Thanks, Wil," he sniffled. He reached forward and gently squeezed my crotch, then grinned. "Can you stay here with us today?" he asked.

I laughed, then thought of Cynthia. Shit. I had to go back home, have dinner at my Grandparents' place, then... well, give Cyn her 'present.' I winced.

"Ronnie, I'm sorry," I explained. "I gotta see my relatives for Christmas dinner."

"What about later?" he asked.

I sighed. Ron had apparently forgotten our phone conversation from last night.

"Cynthia..." I said, feeling embarrassed. "Cyn... she... she got me to agree to come over after that."

"Shit," he said, pulling his hand away and pouting. "I knew it. That bitch."

Rick grinned. "Does she know about your d-d-d-...."

I cut him off. "Yeah, she knows. She blew me last night at the country club."

"No shit! Wow, that's cool," said Rick, his stutter suddenly gone again. "Are you really gonna fuck her tonight?"

Ronnie scowled at me. "I bet she's got teeth down there," he warned.

"C'mon, Ronnie," I said. "Every guy needs to get laid sometime!"

Rick turned to his little brother. "Shut up, R-R-Ronnie!" He put his arm my shoulder and whispered, "come with me."

We walked quickly down the hall to their bedroom, past two ladies coming out of the guest bathroom. Rick closed their door, then reached behind one of the larger robot toys on his shelf and pulled out a package of a dozen Trojan "X-Tra Comfort" prophylactics. A warning label on the package proclaimed "for the prevention of disease."

"You'll wanna use these," he whispered. "For protection."

I nodded, then had a panicked thought. "What if they don't fit?" I asked

"Let's try one on and see," he grinned. Rick led me into the bathroom, then shut the door and locked it.

I yanked down my pants and underwear, and quickly massaged my endowment until it was sufficiently stiff. "How do you get one of these things on?" I whispered.

"I d-d-dunno," he said, gazing down at my groin. "I've n-n- never really used one before."

I laughed. "Well, let's read the directions."

The box didn't give us a clue. I guess adults just knew about this stuff automatically. Rick tore open one of the little round coin-shaped foil packages and pulled it out, then let it unroll to its full length. He held the rubber next to my erection, which dwarfed the prophylactic.

"Is this the biggest size they make?" I asked.

"M-m-maybe it'll stretch," he said.

"It had better," I said.

We spent a minute or two trying to slide it on, but it was almost impossible. Shit, I thought, feeling the rubber. It was greasy, coated with some kind of weird powder. Definitely not like any balloon I'd ever seen.

"Let me try another one," I said.

Rick handed me a second foil package. I opened it up and carefully examined the rolled-up latex, then had an idea. I put it on my engorged head and then slowly rolled it down until it stopped, a little more than halfway. Well, at least it went on that time.

"Is that as far as it g-g-goes?" said Rick, watching me intently.

"Yeah," I nodded. "It's a little tight."

He giggled. "Maybe you n-need an extra large."

"I think it's 'one size fits all'," I sighed. "It better be enough for me to have sex with Cynthia and not get her pregnant."

Over the past six months, I'd read enough sex manuals at the public library to almost be an expert on the subject -- or at least, as much as you could from reading books.

Rick looked up at me, then stood up and smiled. "Ronnie really likes you," he whispered. "I never t-t-told you," he said, trying desperately not to stammer, "but I r-r-really like you, too, Wil."

He reached down and stroked me, gently, and I saw his shorts tent out.

"Jesus, Rick!" I moaned. "Let's do that tomorrow, okay?"

He laughed and let me go. "Okay," he said, "but I want first d-d-dibs at you."

I laughed, then felt a pang. Shit, I was really gonna miss both of The Geek Brothers, I thought.

Suddenly, somebody pounded on the bathroom door. "What're you guys doin' in there?" yelled Ronnie.

Quickly, I stuffed the pack of condoms in my back pocket, shoved my erection back in my underwear, and pulled up my pants. Rick opened the door, and Ronnie eyed us both suspiciously.

I held my hands up in the air. "I swear, we didn't do anything, Ronnie," I started. "He was just giving me some rubbers."

"Can you come back tonight after you see Cynthia?" he asked, in a small voice. "Even for a few minutes?"

I laughed. "If I'm still alive. I'll try to, Ronnie."

He nodded, and another tear slid down his face.

"If it makes you feel any better, Ronnie," I said, smiling, "you're definitely much better at taking care of me than Cyn is, for sure."

He looked up and grinned. Rick giggled.

"You, too, Rick," I said, playfully poking his bulging crotch. Both brothers laughed.

"We got a present for you, Wil," said Ronnie shyly.

"You mean in addition to the rubbers?" I asked.

Each of them handed me a small package. Ron's was the hardback edition of Arthur C. Clarke's novelization of 2001, which had just come out, and Rick had a paperback book on the making of the film. I hadn't had the time to see the movie, which had been sold out for weeks at just one theater downtown, but I remembered I'd told them about it.

"Wow, guys," I said. "This is really neat! I can't wait to read them."

"We knew you l-liked to read b-b-books," said Rick.

I nodded, already scanning the flyleaf of the first volume.

"But I'll always appreciate how you taught me the stuff you couldn't learn from books," I said, smiling.

Ron leaned over and kissed me again, and Rick put his arm around my shoulder.

I glanced down at my watch. "Shit," I said. "I'm sorry, guys -- I've got to get back home for Christmas dinner."

"Okay, we'll let ya go," said Ron. "But tomorrow night, you're all ours." He grinned.

"And we wa-wa-want all the details on Cynthia!" said Rick, wiggling his eyebrows.

To avoid having to go through the crowd at the front of the house, the three of us slipped out a side door to the backyard and ran over to the outside gate.

"Be careful with the slut!" yelled Ronnie, as I jumped on my bike and began pedaling away. I looked back just as Rick punched his brother and yelled at him to shut up.

I arrived back at home to find Sharon totally preoccupied with her new cat. They were playing hide and seek on the couch, but I think the cat was winning. The rest of my presents were pretty much what I expected. They got me the telescope I asked for, which was pretty neat, but I was a little disappointed that it didn't look quite as big as it did in the Edmund Scientific catalog. The other three packages were all clothes, which I had to admit, I needed pretty badly.

Sky's family had gone on vacation earlier that morning with some kind of boat trip to the Bahamas. I cursed myself that I hadn't even called them before they left, but I knew I'd see Sky when they came back, after New Year's. Sky and his folks had gotten me a cool tripod for my new telescope. I'd hoped my little gift to him of a framed photograph wouldn't look too tacky by comparison.

I gave my dad a new fancy silver Gillette Razor kit, and got my mom a new wallet. I guess my family was into 'useful' gifts most of the time. My dad thanked me, then asked me to come with him upstairs.

"Sure, Dad," I said, following him into his bathroom.

"I want you to have my old one," he said, handing me the chrome-handled safety razor.

I rolled my eyes. "Gee, Dad, I'm only 13. I'm not exactly shaving yet," I mumbled.

He grinned. "You look at yourself in the mirror lately, son?"

Yeah, I thought -- just checking to see how I looked after I got raped the other night. I shook my head.

"Take a good look in the light," he said.

I leaned forward. Well, I'll be damned, I thought. There was a visible line of peach-fuzz on my upper lip. Not quite as much as Sky's, but at least I was on the way there.

"Wow, Dad!" I said. "Maybe I do need to shave -- once in awhile, anyway." He nodded and we both laughed.

He gave me a few pointers, along with a can of shaving cream. "This is a rite of passage, son," he explained. "You know, this is a big deal, when a father gets to show his son how to shave his face."

I nodded, then thought about the other rite of passage that awaited me tonight. I glanced over at my father, who was beaming with pride. I smiled back, and thought, thank God you can't read my mind, Dad.

Christmas Dinner with the wacky relatives was as stupid as ever. I didn't get to see my out-of-town cousins very often. My cousin David was almost exactly my age, but we didn't have a lot in common, plus he was only in 7th grade. His 11 year-old brother Bruce was a lot more precocious. When I was washing my hands in my grandmother's bathroom, my younger cousin walked in and smiled at me.

"Looks like you have something in your pants," he said.

I looked down and rolled my eyes, then rearranged my organ to make it a little less visible.

Bruce giggled. "My brother says the guys in your family have real big dicks."

I blanched. "He said that?" I guessed that he'd snuck a glance at me when we visited them for vacation over the summer.

My cousin nodded. "You wanna see mine?" He began unzipping his pants.

"Maybe later, Bruce," I said, hanging up the towel. "Let's eat first."

I managed to successfully avoid both cousins for the rest of the afternoon. Well, I guess I now know which side of the family I got my horniness from, I mused.

Finally, around 8:30PM, we got back home. "I'm feeling real tired, Mom," I said, faking a yawn as I walked upstairs. "I want to listen to my new stereo."

"I'm tired, too," said Sharon, yawning for real. My sister had been up since 7AM playing with her dolls, so I wasn't surprised. Her cat was still in her arms, but the tiny feline looked like she was still feisty and ready to play.

We said our goodnights, and I headed upstairs. I closed and locked my door, then took off my suit and hung it up in my closet. I found a Sgt. Pepper 8-track tape and jammed it in the front of my new stereo. Hmmm -- it sounded pretty good. I turned down the volume just enough to make it sound legit, and hit the 'auto-repeat' button. That ought to do it.

I quickly slipped on my jeans, a turtleneck sweater and some sneakers, then noiselessly slid open my bedroom window and looked outside. The coast was clear. I tentatively stuck my foot out on the metal drainpipe outside. I didn't do this very often, but this emergency exit came in handy once in awhile. The drainpipe creaked a little bit, but it still seemed to hold my weight okay. I stepped out and grabbed on to the TV antenna pole attached to the side of the house.

Just as I gathered my courage to slide down, I caught myself. Shit -- the rubbers! I crawled back inside and grabbed the package of Trojans that Rick had given me earlier, and took one out. I looked at it and thought for a minute.

"Better play it safe," I muttered to myself, and grabbed three more. I shoved the little round foil packages into my back pocket, then hid the box and crawled back out the window. I closed the door and slid down the aluminum pole, then grabbed my bike and tore off into the night.

It was beginning to drizzle. I silently cursed, desperately wishing that I'd brought my raincoat. I quickly pedaled down the rain-slicked side streets, cutting through a nearby park as a shortcut, and made it over to Cyn's house in under ten minutes. All of the lights on her house were out, except for one in the very back. That had to be her room, I thought. I stashed my bike in the trees, then tip- toed over to the side of her house. Should I try to climb the wooden fence? Just as I started to reach for the latch, a loud barking started up on the other side of the gate. I jumped back. From the sound of it, it sounded like a German Shepherd, and a big one, too.

The front porch light suddenly turned on, and the screen door opened. "Wil!" said a voice. "Is that you?"

"No! It's Santa Claus!" I whispered loudly. "I've brought you a present!"

Cyn stepped out wearing just a thin nightgown and grinned. "I was afraid you wouldn't come," she said. "I think we've got at least two hours before my folks get back. Come on upstairs."

I ran up the porch to her front door. She grabbed me by the hand and took me inside, then hungrily pulled me to her and kissed me, deeply. I inhaled her scent. She was wonderful - - a great clean smell, mixed in with some kind of sharp, seductive fragrance. After a moment, I pulled back and smiled at her.

"I've thought of you all day, Wil," she said, smiling back.

"Me, too," I nodded, almost truthfully.

She took me by the hand and pulled me up the stairs, laughing. We went into her room, which was the last door on the right. A Monkees poster with a large photo of Davy Jones was on the wall next to her bed, which had four brass posts and a frilly white bedspread. She turned the light on and started unbuttoning my pants.

"Can't we, uh, keep the lights off," I stammered. Christ, I thought. I didn't want to have to explain the bruises to her.

She frowned. "You don't have to be shy with me, Wil," she said. "I want to see all of you tonight."

"Please Cynthia," I said, reaching for her breast. God, she was soft -- bigger than I expected, too. "I'm... a little shy. Can we just have the night-light on?"

"If that's what you want," she whispered, reaching for the light. She let her nightgown slip to the floor, then pulled off my sweater and kissed my chest. I stiffened almost immediately when she began swirling her tongue around my left nipple.

"Oh, god, Cyn," I moaned, pulling her to the bed. I kicked off my shoes, then pulled off my pants and underwear with one yank. We kissed passionately for several minutes, and I kissed her breasts.

"Please, Wil," she moaned. "Please fuck me."

I blanched at the sound of the word. It sounded so... so forbidden.

"W-w-wait a minute," I stammered. "I've brought... uh, 'protection'."

She giggled. "Let me help you," she whispered. She took the foil package out of my hands, tore it open with her teeth, then slipped it over my stiff erection. I think she'd had some practice with this before.

"There," she said. "Are you ready?"

I winced. Damn, these things are tight, I thought. If they're this tight now, I hope they make bigger ones by the time I turn 18.

She pulled me on top of her and reached down below, and I felt myself entering something warm and tantalizingly tight.

"God, Wil," she said. "Y-y-you're even bigger than I remembered," she said, gritting her teeth.

I began to push a little harder. Suddenly, I felt some resistance, and she pulled back from me. "Wait a minute," she panted. "Go a little slower."

I just wanted to get this thing over with. I began to fondle her breasts, which were amazingly soft and warm. She pulled me back to her mouth, and kissed me passionately. Her face was much softer than a guy's, I thought, then I felt a pang at remembering how Ronnie had kissed me earlier that afternoon.

Ronnie. Was I finally beginning to fall in love with him? Now, when he was about to be wrenched away from me, forever?

My arousal began to wilt. I concentrated on getting it back, just as Cyn's kisses became more fevered, more passionate.

"I'm ready now, Wil," she moaned. "Please. Give it all to me. I need you so badly." She put her hands on my buttocks and pulled me closer to her.

I instantly surged back to life, and felt a warm throbbing between my legs. I felt like I was on fire. I leaned forward and shoved half of me inside her.

"OH, GOD! " she screamed. "You're too big, you're too big! Please, take it out!"

This isn't fun at all, I thought. My erection began to deflate again as I pulled out and sat up. "Oh, god, Cyn, I'm really sorry!" I said, panting.

She sobbed quietly. "Oh, I wanted you so much, Wil!" she cried. "Please, can you try again?"

I looked down. The Trojan was loosening up on my deflating member, but I was surprised to see that it actually fit a little better when I was soft.

"Shit, Cyn, I'm sorry," I said, kneeling forward on the bed and letting her see my groin. "I think you kinda scared 'Little Wil.'"

She nodded and sobbed quietly. I leaned forward and lay next to her, then kissed her neck and her cheek. "Do you... do you wanna do anything else?" I said, stroking her hair.

Cyn nodded, then leaned forward to kiss me, hungrily, her tongue slipping past my lips. She sucked on my lower lip and tenderly bit it. Ah, I thought, looking down. "I think 'Little Wil' has returned," I whispered, and she giggled.

"Wil, you know I've been with... a few guys in school already," she said.

So have I, I thought.

"I don't care, Cyn," I said, kissing her again. "I think you're kinda neat."

She hesitated. "I've... I've only really been with two boys before," she confessed. "I mean... going all the way."

I nodded. "Maybe we should, uh, take this a little slower," I began.

She smiled shyly at me. "Do you think you could do for me what I did for you... last night at the dance?" she whispered.

I looked down and saw an indistinct area between her legs, with just a few silky curls visible. I gulped. I wasn't ready for this, I thought.

"God, Cyn, I'm... I'm sorry," I said. "I've never done that before."

"I haven't been able to get any of my other boyfriends to do that, either," she said, softly.

I shuddered. How many guys have been down there already, I thought.

"Look, uh, Cyn," I said, sitting up. "Can we, you know... still see each other? You tell me when you're ready, and maybe we can try it again someday."

She nodded. "You're different from the others, Wil," she sighed. "You're real smart, and real sensitive. Sky thinks you're... you know... a homo-sexual."

She pronounced it just like that, with a hyphen. I felt my face redden with anger, but I knew she wouldn't be able to see it in the darkness. That son of a bitch, I thought. How could he tell her that?

Cyn leaned forward and stroked my chest, then put her head on my shoulder. "I know different, Wil," she murmured, kissing my cheek. "You're more of a man than anyone I've ever met."

I nodded. Yeah, by a good three or four inches at least, I thought. Not bad for a 13 year-old.

Suddenly, we heard a door slam from downstairs and a voice called out. "Cynthia! Your mother and I are home!"

"Oh, shit!" she whispered, jumping up from the bed.

"Is that your parents?" I said, my heart stopping momentarily.

"I'M UP HERE, DADDY!" she yelled, then turned back to me. "Wil, you'll have to go out this way," she whispered, then ran to the window and quickly opened it.

This is becoming a habit, I thought, as I quickly pulled my sweater back over my head and yanked my pants up. She pushed me towards the windowsill, and I looked out as I slipped my shoes on my feet. This was an older house, so at least I had a little more room to stand on. The ledge had a row of bricks, which led all the way to the front porch. I glanced down, and a huge dog looked up at me and barked loudly.

"Shut up, Boomer!" she yelled, then turned to me. "He won't hurt you. Just hang on to the wall, and then jump over to the porch roof. I do it all the time."

I nodded and made my way outside. "I'm really sorry for all this, Wil," she whispered. "Thanks for coming by." She pulled me close to her and kissed me for a moment. As much as I liked Ronnie and Sky, I thought, I had to admit, girls weren't half-bad sometimes.

"Cynthia!" yelled a voice, knocking on her door.

"Run, Wil!" she said, shoving me outside. The window slammed shut behind me, and the curtain quickly closed.

The light inside her room went on, illuminating the side of her house and the yard below. Shit, I thought. I was a lot higher up than I had thought. I looked over at the narrow ledge of bricks, and swallowed, hard. I heard several voices arguing behind the glass, but I tried to ignore them as I inched my way on down the path. The dog below growled and barked noisily.

"Shut up, Boomer!" I whispered loudly. The dog immediately stopped barking and looked up at me, curiously. Hmmm -- smart dog, I thought. I continued tip-toeing down the narrow ledge, trying to avoid looking down, and holding onto the side of the house as tightly as I could.

The dim voices inside the house continued yelling in the background, and I heard a door slam. My foot slipped on a wet spot on the bricks, but I caught myself just in time. At last, I made it over to the porch roof, which looked very sturdy. I got on my stomach and slowly slid myself up over the edge. Suddenly, a clay shingle broke off in my hand, and I almost fell. I silently cursed as it went over the side and smashed on the concrete driveway below.

Shit, I thought. I let myself drop to the wet grass, and made a last-ditch run for my bike, which was off to the left. The dog began barking again wildly behind the fence, and the porch light went back on. I jumped on my bike, shoved off, and pedaled as fast as I could down the street in the darkness.

Minutes later, I pulled up at a phone booth near a 7-11. Still panting for breath, I jumped inside, closed the door, and dialed Ronnie's number. He picked up on the first ring.

"Hello?" he answered.

"Ronnie! It's me."

"Wil!" he said excitedly. "Did you... did you and Cynthia do it?"

"Almost," I said, chuckling. "As it turned out, I was... ah... a little more than she could handle."

Ronnie went into hysterics. "What kinda slut is SHE?" he yelled, laughing uncontrollably. I heard another voice in the background, and Ronnie yelled, "Wil almost killed her with his big dick!" Somebody else yelled back "I knew it!"

I rolled my eyes. "I hope that's your brother," I muttered.

"No, it's my MOTHER, you asshole," he giggled. I heard Rick laugh beside him.

I grinned. "Listen, Ronnie. My parents don't know I'm out. I really can't come by tonight. I swear, I'll be over first thing in the morning."

Ron giggled again. "We've want you to meet somebody. Trust me, you'll like 'em."

I furrowed my brow. "I already met Uncle Bob," I said.

Ron giggled again. "You're getting warm."

I didn't see any kids there... unless...

Suddenly, a new voice came on the line. "My daddy says ever-thang's bigger in Texas," he drawled, "but Rick and Ronnie here tell me that ain't always true."

"Who are you?" I asked.

"I'm Robbie Junior, but folks call me 'RJ'. You met m' dad earlier."

Hmmm, probably a chip off the old block. "Look, whoever you are, I've got to go," I said, impatiently.

"That's fine," he drawled. "I heard all about y'all, Wil. You jes' come by tomorrow, ya hear? Look forward to meetin' ya." He handed the phone back to Ronnie.

"Come over tomorrow, Wil," he said. "We've only got three more days."

"I'll be there, Ron. I swear. Goodnight, babe."

"Goodnight, Wil," he said. Then in a low voice, he whispered, "I love you, Wil."

"I... love you, too, Ronnie," I said. I hung the phone up, feeling uneasy. Who was this Texas kid, I thought?

I made it back to my house in minutes, locked up my bike on the side porch, then shimmied back up the TV antenna mast to my room. My new stereo was softly playing 'With a Little Help from My Friends.' The alarm clock read 10:15. Better make this look good, I thought. I ripped off my clothes, then threw on a T-shirt and shorts, unlocked my door, and casually walked down the hall, pretending to yawn.

"Wil!" called my mother from down the hall. "Is that you?"

"Yeah, Mom," I said, as sleepily as I could. "I gotta pee."

She stuck her head out her bedroom door. "We tried to wake you half an hour ago, but you wouldn't answer," she said, suspiciously.

I feigned a look of utter innocence. Moi? "I was there the whole time, Mom," I said, yawning again. "I'm still really tired from the dance last night. It really took a lot out of me."

And then some, I thought.

She laughed. "I guess it did. Well, your little friend Ronnie called an hour ago. I told him you'd call him back."

That idiot, I said, silently cursing him. "I'll call him in the morning. It's too late now, Mom. G'night!"

"Goodnight, honey. Merry Christmas," she said, leaning forward and kissing me on the cheek.

"Oh, Mom!" I whined, rubbing my face. She laughed and shook her head, then closed their bedroom door.

Shit, I thought. That was close. I took care of 'walking the dog', then returned to my room, tore off my clothes, and fell in bed, exhausted with the night's activities. I hoped that Cynthia wouldn't be too pissed-off at me. Shit. She could really spread some bad rumors about me at school, I thought.

And I wondered who this "RJ" kid was, over at Rick and Ronnie's house. I yawned, for real this time, then lay back and listened to my stereo play "Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds." In a few moments, I began to float down a river with tangerine trees and marmalade skies, and drifted off to sleep.

Chapter 14

I awoke the next morning to the tail end of The Chipmunks chirping out "Alvin's Harmonica" on my clock radio. I pulled the pillow over my head to block out the sound.

"I thought Christmas was already over," I muttered to no one in particular. I turned and glanced at the clock face. Shit. It was already 9:45AM. I silently cursed myself for not waking up earlier. I leapt out of bed, yanked on some shorts, and padded down the hallway to the bathroom.

I locked the door, pulled off my shorts and took a long, hot shower. The water felt wonderful, but I still winced a bit when it splashed on my backside. I sure hope this thing will hurry up and heal, I thought. I got out of the shower, dried myself off, and took a good look at myself in the bathroom mirror. The scratches and bruises on my chest were fading, but they were still fairly visible. I made a mental note to make sure I wore a shirt for the next few days, so my folks wouldn't ask any questions.

"Wil!" my sister Sharon yelled, knocking on the bathroom door. "I have to go!"

Shit, I thought. I knew I'd never be able to leave the bathroom without a shirt. "Sharon, can you do me a favor?" I yelled.

"What is it?"

"Can you get me a T-shirt and a pair of underwear from my room?"

She hesitated. "Your underwear is gross!" she said.

I rolled my eyes. I couldn't possibly have been this stupid at 9 years old, I thought.

"Please, Sharon," I whined. "Just any shirt will do. They're in the top left drawer of my dresser."

"Alright." After a minute, she knocked quietly on the door. I unlocked it and cracked it open an inch, grabbed the clothing, muttered my thanks, and immediately slammed and locked it again.

I tugged the shirt over my head, pulled up my underwear, and stared at myself in the mirror over the sink. "Shit," I said out loud, looking at the obvious outline of my penis through the white cloth. "I should remember not to walk around in my underwear anymore, either."

"What did you say, Wil?" yelled my sister from behind the door.

"Nothing, Sharon!" I yelled back. "Thanks for the clothes!"

I pulled up my shorts and took a last glimpse at myself. Yeah. That'd pass. I prayed for the bruises to heal faster.

Suddenly, my father knocked on the door. "Wil!" he called. "Your sister needs to use the bathroom. Can you please hurry up?"

"I'm done, Dad," I said, flushing the toilet to give me an excuse. I opened the door and my father stared at me suspiciously.

"Lemme in," said Sharon, who ran inside and slammed the door shut.

"Are you alright, Wil?" my father asked. "You don't look too good."

"I'm just tired from all the stuff over the holiday, Dad," I yawned.

My mother walked by on her way downstairs and grinned. "Oh, Ed," she said to my father, trying to stifle a laugh. "You know teenagers at his age spend an inordinate amount of time in the bathroom."

I rolled my eyes. "Oh, Mom!" I muttered, my face reddening.

My dad glanced at her, surprised.

"Well, it's true!" she said, laughing, as she continued down the stairs.

"I'm going over to Ronnie's house, Dad," I said. "I'll be back later on, okay?"

He nodded. "Don't forget, son, you've got to mow the lawn soon. I know it's winter, but we can't let it go forever."

"I'll do it, Dad."

I thought for a minute. Ronnie. What did he say on the phone last night? Damn.

"Uh, Dad?" I said, as he began to walk down the stairs.

"Now, what?" he asked, from the landing.

"Is it OK if I spend the night tonight at Ronnie's?"

He shook his head. "Son, you were just there a few nights ago, weren't you?"

I tried to think back. It seemed like a long time ago, but he might be right.

"Dad, Ronnie's family is moving to Texas this Sunday," I reminded him. "This is the last week I'm ever gonna see him and his brother. Do you mind?"

He sighed. "Alright. But don't forget the lawn!" he yelled, as he reached the bottom step.

Fifteen minutes later, I shivered in the cold outside the Lannigan residence and pushed the bell. The door opened, and I gazed at a tall, rugged-looking boy, about 16. He had reddish-brown hair, was wearing a cowboy shirt and boots, and was almost a foot taller than me.

"Hi," he drawled. "I bet y'all are Wil, right?"

I grinned and nodded.

"Ah'm Bobby Junior," he said, sticking out his hand. We shook hands, and he squeezed it, hard. "But call me RJ."

I winced. Christ, I thought. Are all of these people idiots?

"Is that Wil?" a voice yelled from the hallway. I looked up as Ronnie ran up to the door. "Hey," he said, his face breaking out into a big smile. "This is RJ," he said.

"Yeah," I grinned. "We just met."

"Y'all want somethin' to eat?" he said, as we walked through the living room and out to the patio. "Supper's almost on the table."

I could see Uncle Bob, Mrs. Lannigan, and a few other assorted relatives out in back. The delicious smell of barbecued steaks and burgers drifted through the air.

"Sure," I nodded. "I'm definitely in the mood for meat."

Ronnie started giggling uncontrollably at my accidental double entendre, and RJ shot me a glance.

"That's what-all I hear," he said, smiling broadly.

Whoa, I thought, my heart doing a little flip-flop. We sat down at a large picnic table in the yard, and began eating our meal.

Man, that was great, I thought. Between Christmas Dinner and lunch today, I felt like I'd put on ten pounds.

Ronnie ran up and sat down next to me on the bench. "Isn't RJ, cool, Wil?" he asked, breathlessly.

"Well, I dunno," I said. "I mean, I just met the guy, Ronnie."

Ron looked in both directions. The adults had finally left the picnic table, so the coast was clear. "He's already... done stuff with us," he said, smiling slyly. "He's really neat."

I turned and looked to the left of the pool. Rick and RJ were throwing a football back and forth, and Rick had just playfully tackled the other teen and pulled him to the ground. They rolled over and over in the grass in a tangle of bodies.

I felt a pang of jealousy. Well, I thought. At least Rick and Ronnie would have some friends in Texas.

I nodded. "Yeah. He looks cool, Ronnie."

Ron got up and called to his brother. "Hey, you guys! Let's go in our room and... uh... watch some TV, okay?"

The two dropped the ball and looked up and laughed. We went inside the house, trooped down the hall to the boys' enormous bedroom, and shut the door. Rick reached over and locked it, then stared at RJ.

I grinned at him. "Well, I've met RJ," I said, laughing, "but I haven't seen too much of 'Bobby Junior' yet."

The tall teen laughed. "I hear y'all got a Texas-sized cock, Wil," he said.

I gulped. Rick and Ronnie were already pulling their shirts off.

"Well, I dunno about that, RJ," I said, looking at the floor.

Ronnie pulled down his shorts and kicked them off. From the looks of it, he was just about ready for action. I looked over at Rick, who already was sitting on the bed and fondling himself.

I laughed. "Oh, what the hell," I said. I pulled off my shirt and pants, and stood there in my underwear.

RJ looked over at me. "Lord! Y'all look pretty banged up thar," he said, eyeing the bruises on my stomach and back. "Ya been ridin' any bulls out here?"

"Not exactly," I said, my face reddening.

"A bronco tried to ride Wil," giggled Ronnie, "but I think Wil won the grand prize at the rodeo."

"I shor bet he did," said RJ, eying me below the waist. "That's a mighty nice package you got there, Wil -- real nice. Y'all mind?"

I grinned, and he gently tugged down my underwear, and my member dangled down and swung back and forth between my legs.

RJ whistled. "Well, sir," he said, visibly impressed. "Now, if y'all ain't a Texas-size boy, then I don't know what is."

He pulled his jeans off, and I glanced down. Holy shit, I thought. That's the biggest bulge I've ever seen since... well, since me!

RJ pulled off his underwear and turned towards me. "Well, won't ya look at that," he grinned. "I'd say you 'n me's just about brothers... wouldn't y'all?"

I looked down at his crotch, and my eyes opened wide. Shit, I thought. This guy might even be bigger than I was.

Rick and Ronnie laughed and collapsed on the bed behind me. "I think he might've beaten you, Wil!" squealed Ronnie.

My heart pounded, and my organ throbbed up to its full size. "You mind if we compare side-by-side?" I asked.

RJ grinned and nodded. "Sure, pardner. But I warn ya -- where I come from, a Texas dick beats a Florida dick any ol' day."

We'll see about that, I thought. I stepped forward and gently grabbed him with my hand, then held both of our endowments together. Shit, I thought. I think he's got me on length. But I got him beat on circumference, for sure. I knew it was 6-1/2" around, because I'd measured it before with Ron a few weeks ago.

Ron checked us out with a ruler, then jumped up beside me and giggled. "RJ's a hair over ten inches, Wil! I'm sorry, but he beats you."

RJ reached over and gently stroked me. I moaned and looked up, and he grinned at me. "But y'all win on thickness though, Wil, and that's pretty dang important. I think your head's quite a big bigger, too." He reached down and felt my balls, then nodded. "Yep, y'all got a set on you like my cousin's. I seen bulls that are smaller, boy," he laughed.

I laughed and thanked him for the compliment.

"That explains y'all's voice," he said.

I stared at him, curiously. "What do you mean, RJ?" I asked.

He grinned. "Y'all got the deepest voice I ever did hear on a kid. Ya sound like a man already, boy." The older teen turned to Rick. "How old did y'all say he was?"

"I'll be 14 in six months," I said.

RJ whistled. "I'm 16," he said. "And I know for a fact I wasn't this king-sized until jes' a year or two ago. I bet you still got some growin' to do," he said, grinning. "Y'all jes' might wind up beatin' me in the end, Wil."

I grinned and nodded. "Maybe it'll be a foot long by the time I'm 21," I laughed.

"'Course, there is such a thing as TOO big," he chuckled. "Even in Texas."

I groaned and rolled my eyes. "Speaking of too big," I said, sitting down naked in a chair by their bunk beds, "wait 'till I tell you what happened with Cynthia last night."

I gave them the short version of the story, and Rick nodded and idly fondled himself as I gave him the details on Cyn's body.

Ronnie laughed. "I bet she was sure pissed-off," he said, giggling. "You'd think she'd be comfortable with a really big one by now."

I glared at him. "Hey, Ronnie," I said, icily. "If you want, I'll try fucking you up the ass, and then you can tell me if you're comfortable with it."

He shook his head and immediately apologized.

"Yep, women kin be difficult like that," explained RJ, who apparently had had some experience with the fairer sex. "You say this little filly was just 13, like you?"

"Actually, I think she's around 15," I said. "She's in 9th grade, like me and Ronnie."

"Y'all need to find yourself a real woman, Wil," he said. "Little girls are designed jes' to be with little boys." He looked me right in the eye. "As far as I'm concerned, you're a big man."

I shook my head. "I'm just barely five feet-two," I said, slightly embarrassed.

"I'm not just talkin' about height," he said, seriously. "I'm talkin' about what's deep inside ya, and what's in your pants. That's what really makes a man a man." He stood up and put his hand on my groin, which throbbed.

I let out a quiet moan, and he looked me in the eye.

"And I say you're a man," he said, quietly.

RJ pulled me towards him and kissed me, hard. My pulsed raced. We fell to the floor and went between each other's legs. I grabbed his arousal and pulled it close to my face. God, I thought. It's really beautiful. It had a pleasant kind of musky smell, and RJ was circumcised, unlike his cousins. I felt something warm slurp hungrily at my groin, and I leaned forward and gobbled up all I could take.

The pleasure was indescribable. It was as if I was touching a mirror image of myself. We spent several minutes exploring every inch of each other's bodies. I followed RJ move for move; when he moved to my balls, I did the same thing. He was quite a bit hairier than I was, but I was beyond caring. We began sucking each other, and after only a minute or so, I felt my pulse quicken and my climax building. At last, I began to moan and I tensed my buttocks. Suddenly, he pulled his mouth off me.

"NO!" I yelled.

Rick and Ronnie looked up. I hadn't even noticed that they were eagerly fondling the other, watching me and RJ with great amusement.

"Why did you stop, asshole!" I hissed. "I was really close!"

RJ leaned back and smiled. "I knew y'all was about to cum," he laughed. "Ya gotta learn that gettin' there is most of the fun, Wil. It's not just about shootin' your jism," he explained. "Sometimes, y'all gotta drag it out some. I promise ya, the longer y'all take, the better 'tis in the end."

I frowned. I'd never taken more than five minutes to shoot. I thought the whole point was to have an orgasm!

"Let's you and me try somethin' new," he said. "Y'all just do what I do."

We sat cross-legged on the floor and reached for each other's weapon. "Hold on, pardner. Hand me that massage oil from over there, Ronnie-boy," he said to Ron.

Ron handed him a small bottle of oil. RJ squirted a little in his hand, then rubbed it around his fingers.

"Put a little of this on 'Little Wil' down there," he grinned, squirting a glob in my hand.

I looked at the oil. The liquid was clear and didn't have much scent. It felt almost like grease, but not quite. I wrapped my fist around my shaft and began stroking.

"Oh, GOD!" I said, moaning.

RJ grinned. "I told ya! Y'all got a lotta things ya could be learnin'."

I nodded. Jacking-off had never felt this good before.

"Y'all watch me," he instructed, kneeling down on the floor next to me. "Give your hand a little twist as y'all go up and down, like this." He demonstrated his technique. "It feels a lot better that way, 'specially on the head."

"Shit," I said. "That's great!"

"Take it real slow, now," he ordered. "Don't be in such a dang hurry. And hold on to your balls, so they don't ride up."

I matched him stroke for stroke. He reached up and tweaked his right nipple with his left hand.

"Jes' give it a little squeeze, then pull on it a bit," he said, panting.

I did as he suggested and felt a twinge surge through my body. This went on for several minutes as we sped up and slowed down. He showed me several different parts of my body, which he called 'Erogenous zones.' Most of them were like little electric switches that seemed to turn on tingles of pleasure inside me.

RJ wasn't dazzlingly good-looking, but he was still great to watch. I could see he had moved closer to manhood than either of the Lannigan boys, but the family resemblance was still visible. He had a great tan, along with some decent arm and chest muscles from his years of working on his dad's ranch. RJ didn't have the definition of Sky's tight, lean body, and he was considerably taller than either of us -- probably close to six feet, I thought. His legs were particularly attractive, with sinews and muscles that I could see all the way down to his knees. He had just the right amount of body hair -- a smooth chest, with a few reddish-brown curls coming out of his nipples, and a line of hairs leading down from his belly-button to a thick growth below.

Every time he saw I was close to an orgasm, he ordered me to stop. I sat there and glared at him, my erection throbbing helplessly. After a minute, he gave me a little more oil and let me start up again, slowly.

He made me repeat the process two or three more times. After more than 20 minutes, I knew I had reached the point of no return.

"I'm... gonna cum, RJ!" I said, moaning.

"Slow 'way down!" he yelled.

I did, but it was torturous. About thirty seconds, I finally felt the fireworks begin to explode, but I resisted the urge to pound my fist as fast I could. I kept my strokes slow and steady, and twisted my grip like he showed me earlier. Finally, I erupted with the biggest ejaculation of my life, blasting Ronnie square in the face, a good six feet away.

"HEY!" he yelled. "This shit's in my EYE!"

Ronnie hopped around yelling, and I shot another half-dozen thick streams all over the rug, the wall, and their clothes dresser. The orgasm was so intense, it was almost painful. I nearly blacked out and fell backwards to the floor.

RJ caught me in his arms and gently lay me down on the carpet. My eyelids fluttered and I dizzily looked up at him.

"Oh, fuck, man," I moaned. "Jesus. That one felt like... like it lasted three times as long as any orgasm I've ever had."

He grinned and nodded. "Now y'all are gettin' it, Wil!" he said. "A friend of mine back home tells me he kin go two, even three minutes just shootin' and shootin'. He calls it a 'Texas-size orgasm.'"

I looked up at him and laughed, weakly. "RJ, I can barely walk as it is. I don't think I could take much more."

He nodded and grinned. "I hear ya, pardner. Y'all got me so turned on, I gotta take care o' business, mahself!" RJ kneeled down beside me and began stroking frantically.

Shit, I thought, closely eying the Lannigan's cousin's prodigious member. If that's what I look like to Sky, no wonder I scared the shit out of him.

In less than ten seconds, the Texas boy started moaning. "Oh, lordy! Here comes a geyser!" Suddenly, he exploded, and a torrent of white goo shot across the room, missing Rick by inches.

"SHIT!" he yelled, frantically diving out of the way.

"Not quite!" I said, laughing hysterically. RJ let loose with more than a half dozen volleys of almost equal strength, then fell back beside me, exhausted.

"Holy fuck!" I whispered. I'd never seen anybody or anything cum so hard, or so much. RJ leaned forward, then grinned as he saw my face.

"Now, that's how we do thangs down in Texas!" he drawled, panting for breath.

Over the next couple of days, RJ showed me a few more tricks with his Texas-sized tool. I felt a kinship with the older teen that I didn't have with the two younger Lannigan brothers. At least he knew what it was like to be, well... a freak.

"Is yours the biggest you've ever seen, RJ?" I asked, as we leaned against the wall in Rick and Ronnie's bedroom, following a fairly intense session. We'd had dinner an hour before, and I was so tired, I was almost drifting off to sleep.

He shook his head. "Naw," he said. "There's two or three bigger ones I've seen on some o' the older farmhands back on the ranch." He caught my surprised expression and laughed. "Naw, I ain't sleepin' around with everythang on two feet, y' understand? But my daddy's got about 900 employees out there, and, well... guys get lonely herdin' cattle and takin' care of drillin' oil in the middle of nowhere."

"What about at school?" I asked. I was curious to see how many other kids shared our... situation.

RJ thought for a moment. "Jes' one guy I knew in junior high back near Dallas," he replied. "His pole might've been an inch or two bigger, but his was the kind that never quite gets a hunnert percent hard -- kinda spongy, ya know? You and me, we could hammer nails with these," he said, proudly, giving his endowment a squeeze.

"You into girls or guys, RJ?" I asked, hesitatingly.

"Let's just say ah'm flexible," he said, grinning. "I think too dang many people try to put labels on this sheeit. The way ah see it, 'heterosexual' and 'homosexual' don't really cover all the shades of gray. It ain't jes' black and white, and it don't have to be an 'either/or' kinda thing, Wil."

I nodded.

"And besides that," he said, letting his large appendage droop over the side of his leg, "I think we got a gift from God with these things. Me an' m' dad ain't what you'd call religious, but I think it's our responsibility to share this gift with as many people as we can."

I felt a pang, remembering Cynthia from the other night.

"I didn't have much luck sharing mine with a girl from school the other day," I lamented.

"Don't worry, Wil," he said, reassuringly. "Y'all are still young. You got quite a few years left to spread your wild oats, and find people out there who kin handle what you got -- men and women. Believe me, it's quite a blessin'."

"It's been a curse to me a couple of times, RJ," I said, shaking my head. "You ever get called 'donkey dick' in school?"

He laughed. "I heard every dang one of 'em, Wil," he said, putting his hand on my shoulder. "They called me 'bull dick,' 'horse cock,' 'elephant peter,' 'queer bait,' and a lotta other ones I can't even remember. But some of the ones that yell the loudest are the ones that really wish they had what I have. What you and me both got."

"Maybe," I said, looking down. "But this thing's still a lotta trouble for me sometimes."

"How so?" he asked.

I explained my difficulty with getting my endowment in my swim trunks, and how some kids made fun of me in the locker room. He commiserated when I told him sometimes, it was even annoying to use urinals in public places, because I was so long, I sometimes had to take a step back, just to avoid having it dangle into the drain. And when I got hard, which seemed to be happening more frequently these days, it was almost impossible to hide it in my pants.

"Y'all know what I do, Wil?" he asked.

I shook my head.

"I wear one of these here jock-straps all the time," he said, grinning. "It's a lot more comfortable, and in case you run into any acc-cy-dents, it'll keep thangs down low and outta sight."

I grinned. "Thanks for the advice," I said. "Maybe I'll try that."

He leaned closer to me. "Y'all listen to RJ," he said. "Guys like you and me... we're lucky. Real lucky. And there's a lot more boys out there with pencil dicks than there are with real cocks like us."

I nodded, feeling a surge of pride. For perhaps the first time, I started to feel glad I was the way I was. I grinned at RJ.

"Maybe we should start a club," I said, laughing.

He chuckled. "Y'all come out to Texas sometime, Wil, and maybe we'll talk about that." I nodded.

In between my chores, working on my History paper, and spending as much time as I could at Rick and Ronnie's house, the week after Christmas went by very quickly. Ronnie and I fooled around almost a dozen times -- sometimes with his brother and RJ, sometimes just by ourselves.

On Saturday, the Lannigan's house was bedlam during the day. Two giant moving vans blocked the front driveway, and workers swarmed over every room. Rick and Ronnie were apoplectic, trying to make sure all their toys and plastic model kits were carefully packed in such a way that they wouldn't break en route. Since all their furniture was now on the road to Dallas, all we had in his room were four sleeping bags and the TV set. The boys had insisted on that.

Because of the number of relatives around, we were hardly able to get any privacy to ourselves. Finally, at about 11PM, Rick and RJ started going at it in the bedroom. RJ was giving lessons in "real ass-fuckin'," as he put it. He was on his back, with his knees pinned up, and Rick was slamming him for all he was worth.

I shivered. I hadn't even thought about two guys doing that since Scott had tried to rape me more than a week ago. I looked back at the two sweating teenagers, who were oblivious to me or Ronnie. Judging by the looks on their faces, I guessed maybe it could be a lot more pleasurable than what I went through, under the right circumstances.

I didn't feel like sitting around and just being a spectator, so Ronnie and I tiptoed out to the pool. He turned all the lights off, so that none of the rest of the family would be able to see what we were doing. Even though it was only about 50 degrees outside, the pool water was warm and inviting, and the entire deck was shrouded in fog from the steam that billowed up from the surface. We sat on the bottom step in the shallow end, just talking quietly for nearly an hour, then Ron began kissing me. Even though we'd already done it once with Rick and RJ several hours earlier, I could tell both of us were still hungry for more.

I used the opportunity to get him off in the pool, using my mouth underwater. Ronnie never took long. In less than two minutes, I felt him spasm and I sensed the familiar taste going down my throat. As I bubbled back up to the surface, he pulled me close and kissed me.

"That was... that was great, Wil," he sighed, his eyelids fluttering. "The best ever. How can you hold your breath that long?"

"Well..." I panted, "we competition swimmers are known for our amazing lung capacity." I grinned. "Among other things."

He kissed me. "I love you, Wil," he said softly, his eyes filling with tears.

"I... I love you, too, Ronnie." I put my arms around him. We were surrounded by blackness.

"Boys!" called a voice.

"Uncle Bob!" whispered Ronnie. "We're in here!" he yelled, as we untangled ourselves in the water.

"Y'all best be gettin' to bed, now," said his Uncle. "Don't forget, we're takin' off at 8AM."

After his Uncle left, Ronnie turned to me. "I can't... I can't live without you, Wil," he said, starting to choke.

"C'mon, Ronnie," I said, soothingly. "You're gonna meet all kinds of cool new kids in Dallas. Your Uncle's got lots of dough. And don't forget, you've got RJ."

He frowned. "I think he's more interested in Rickie than me," he muttered. "Besides, RJ told us he's already got a girlfriend."

"Really?" I said, wonderingly.

"But he's got a couple of boyfriends, too," Ronnie whispered, giggling. "Guys on the ranch."

I bet he does, I chuckled to myself.

"I'll never forget you, Wil," he said, holding me closer. "Never."

I felt a pang. I had to make this as easy as possible for both of us. "Me neither, Ronnie. I'll... I'll write you when I can," I said, knowing I'd probably be lucky to do it even once.

"Can you visit over the summer?" he asked, in a small voice.

I sighed. "I've got practice with the Greater Tampa swim team from May to July."

"But you GOTTA!" he wailed.

A light flicked on back inside the house.

"Sssshhhhhh!" I said. "Hold it down."

He sniffled and nodded, then looked up at me. Even in the darkness, I couldn't miss the look of love in his eyes. God, how I wished I could see that when I looked at Sky.

"Alright, Ronnie," I said, surrendering. "I'll try to get away for a couple of weeks sometime over the summer, and I'll see if my folks will let me come out to Dallas."

"Swear?

"I swear."

He put his arms around me again and kissed me, passionately. I hadn't felt this much from a kiss since that last time with Cynthia. Shit, I thought, remembering my ostensible 'girlfriend.' What was she going to say at school next week? I prayed that maybe she'd just move on to her next conquest and leave me alone.

Ron and I pulled ourselves out of the water and onto the concrete deck. Still shivering from the cold, we slipped our swimsuits back on, grabbed our towels, then trotted over to the side door and headed back down the hall. As we got to the very end, I heard some muffled groans from behind Ronnie's door.

Ronnie peeked inside and rolled his eyes. "They're at it again," he whispered.

"Ronnie," I whispered back, closing the door. "Maybe this should be it. I won't be able to... really say goodbye to you at the airport. I don't think your mom or your Uncle would understand. You know?"

He nodded. "Yeah," he said, quietly. "Thanks for being my friend, Wil."

"Me, too," I said. Shit. Now I was crying. We wrapped our arms around each other one last time.

In the morning, I awoke as my radio went off, with Glen Campbell's "Wichita Lineman" coming out of the speaker. I heard a plane in the distance, probably a jet from MacDill Air Force Base two miles away. Shit, I thought. Ronnie's gone. He was gone forever.

Good riddance, I tried to convince myself, as I rolled over. Ronnie was such a goddamned pest, with those stupid impressions and lame jokes. Such a moody little guy, too. Always having temper-tantrums, getting all weird and jealous on me.

I closed my eyes at the memory. Jealous, because he loved me so much. I felt a lump in my throat and desperately tried to push his face out of my mind. I suddenly became aware again of the radio. The orchestra's melody suddenly swelled up, and my eyes brimmed with tears.

Chapter 15

Nothing eventful happened during the week after New Year's. I was determined to hand in my best term paper ever for American History, so I redoubled my efforts to do a totally thorough job. My little office space was stacked with eight books -- two encyclopedia volumes, four assorted books on the Civil War, and two on Abraham Lincoln. I'd written more than twice as many words as the assignment called for, but I thought I still kept it pretty interesting. I found the story of the aftermath of the war and the assassination of Lincoln to be even more fascinating.

As of Tuesday, I was now wearing the retainer that Dr. Morton had given me at the office. Despite his promises, I thought it was as uncomfortable as hell. I stared at myself in the mirror and winced again at the evil metallic ring circling the outside of my face.

"Shit," I said out loud. "I bet I could receive Radio Free Europe on this fucking thing."

My new stereo sounded great. I was listening to an 8-track tape of The Beatles' White Album, and I quietly hummed 'Bungalow Bill' to myself. Very catchy, I thought, but not quite good enough to be a hit. Yeesh -- that must be Yoko singing in the background. I shuddered.

"Wil!" my Dad yelled from the living room. "We're trying to watch the Orange Bowl down here! Can you keep it down, please?"

"OKAY!" I yelled back, turning it down a notch. The music didn't sound nearly as good at this volume, I thought.

I was starting to get used to wearing the retainer for 8 hours a day. It gave my jaw a dull ache, but was just barely tolerable, I decided. Thank god I didn't have to wear the thing to school. And it'd definitely be out for oral sex, I giggled. Shit. Ronnie.

I took off my glasses and rubbed my eyes, then sighed. I'd had very little sex since the Lannigan brothers had moved away a week ago. I felt a pang. If only I could see Sky. Even if I could talk him into it, he and his family were out of town until late tomorrow on some kind of boating trip to the Bahamas. I was pretty much alone until then.

I barely knew anybody else in school. I wouldn't consider any of the guys on the swim team close friends. Not that many of them wanted to associate with 13 year-olds, I thought, grumbling. There's got to be somebody I could hang out with, I thought.

Wait a minute. I leaned forward and reached behind the desk shelves for my secret stash of Playboys, and pulled out a wrinkled piece of paper. Good -- it was still there.

I re-read the note the cool rock singer had given me at the Christmas dance. "Call me," it said.

"Pete," I said out loud. "Pete Woods. What the hell."

I walked through my doorway over to the new hallway phone, and dialed the number.

A sleepy voice answered. "Hel... Hello?"

"Hi," I said, nervously. "Is this Pete?"

"You got him," he yawned. "The executive offices of Midnight Tunes Entertainment."

Some offices, I thought. "Hi, Pete. It's me, Wil."

There was a pause. "Who?" he asked.

"Wil Larson," I replied. More silence. Jesus, he wasn't making this easy, I thought.

"The guy from the Tampa Central High Christmas dance last week," I continued. "You, uh, told me I should call you sometime. So I guess I'm... calling."

He was silent for a few seconds. "Oh, yeah, yeah," he said, a tone of recognition entering his voice. "Wil. I remember now. You're the guy -- the guy with the vibe!"

I grinned. "I guess so," I laughed. "Anyway, you wanna... I dunno... hang out or something?"

"What time is it?" he asked, groggily.

"10:30."

"In the morning?" he groaned.

Jesus, what a grouch. "Yeah, in the morning," I said, irritated.

"Call me back in a couple of hours, man," he mumbled. "I'm really out of it at the moment."

"Okay, Pete," I said, hanging up the phone. What a flake, I thought, as I went back to my room. I sat down and returned to trying to analyze the conspiracy behind Lincoln's death.

Several hours later, I had had about enough of the retainer, and took it off and tossed it by my bed, rubbing my sore jaw. I looked up at the clock. Shit, I thought. 1:30PM! I forgot to call Pete again. Just as I started to make a dash for the phone, I heard a loud beep from our driveway. I ran downstairs and looked out the front window. There was a big Honda motorcycle in the driveway, ridden by what looked like a tough-looking guy with a black leather jacket. He took off his helmet, and a forest of long blond hair cascaded out over his shoulders. It was Pete.

"Hey!" I yelled, as I opened the door. "How'd you find me?" I asked.

Pete grinned. "I just looked up your vibe in the directory, man," he laughed.

What?, I thought. "You could've just called, you know," I replied.

"This seemed easier," he said, hopping up the porch steps. "There were only two Larson residences near Tampa Central listed in the phone book, and I just took a chance that this one was it."

Pretty lucky guess, I thought.

"And it wasn't a guess," he said, making me jump. "I just kinda drove down the street and just knew. I can't always count on it, but sometimes, I get a feeling about these things. Ya know?"

He looked me right in the eye. Holy shit, I thought, my heart pounding. This guy really was better-looking than Sky. Even better than I remembered how he looked at the dance.

"Hey -- I didn't know you wore glasses," he said.

I remembered that he'd only seen me at the dance, where Sky had made me take them off.

I nodded. "Yeah, I know," said. "They suck. But I'm getting contact lenses in a week or so."

He nodded. "Very cool," he said. "Your eyes are much too beautiful to cover up, man."

This was making me very uncomfortable. "L-l-let's go inside, OK?" I stammered.

"Actually, I was thinkin' maybe you'd wanna, y' know, come over to my place," he said. "I could show you my organ."

I caught my breath.

"It's a Hammond B-3. Classic rock sound," he continued. "You've heard it a million times on every hit on the radio, but probably never saw one before."

"Gee, I'd like to, uh, Pete, but my parents..." I started.

"They're not here, right?" he asked.

I nodded. "Yeah. They took my sister out to lunch."

"Look," he said. "It's not even two o'clock. I live over in Madeira Beach, a couple of miles down the road from St. Petersburg. We can go over there and jam awhile, and I'll have you back by six -- seven at the latest. Scout's honor."

Well, they'd probably be gone at least that long, I thought. "Okay," I said finally, "but let me at least leave them a note."

"Groovy," he said.

I found a note pad just inside the door, scribbled down my explanation, grabbed my jacket, and jumped into a pair of sneakers. I closed the door and stuck the note in the jam. We walked down to the Honda in the driveway.

"You ever been on a bike before?" he asked.

"Just my Rollfast over there," I said, indicating my two- wheeler chained to the side of the house.

"This one's a little bit faster," he laughed, as he casually tossed me a spare helmet. "Honda CB450. 0 to 60 in four seconds. Totally cool."

I stared at the cycle, which looked enormous. "Is it... is it safe?" I asked, hesitatingly.

"Sure," he said. "Unless you fall off while it's movin'."

I blanched.

"C'mon, man," he laughed. "Hop on. We don't have all day."

I nodded and put the helmet on. "Where do I put my feet?" I asked.

"On this rail down here, just above the exhaust," he replied, revving up the engine. "Just hold onto me, and stay close."

I hopped on behind him and held on. The back of his jacket felt warm on my chest.

"Here we go!" he yelled, and we were off.

The ride was exhilarating. We crossed the Courtney Campbell Causeway in record time, zipping in and out of the lanes like lightning.

"Isn't this illegal?" I yelled, trying to be heard over the roar of the wind in my face.

"No!" he yelled back. "It's called 'lane-sharing.' Guys on bikes don't have to follow the rules," he said, laughing.

Between the excitement of the trip and the closeness of our bodies, I started feeling a strange tingling between my legs, pressed up tight against Pete. I prayed it was just the vibration and heat of the engine. Immediately, I felt a familiar throb. Shit, I thought. I hope he doesn't notice.

Fifteen minutes later, we arrived at his place. It was a modest duplex, probably from the 1930s, with an ivy-covered gate at the front. A large motel was next door, and a big brick wall separated the two properties. At least his house was right on the beach, I thought.

"It ain't much, but it's home," he said, as we walked down the path. "The gear's in here," he said, indicating the garage.

I followed close behind him and adjusted my jeans, hoping my partial hard-on wasn't too noticeable. Behind the hinged garage door was a drum set, a couple of guitars, and a microphone stand. A banner on the wall had a psychedelic logo for "The Midnite Toonz." A beat-up wooden organ cabinet was nearby, with a sign on the back warning 'Property of the Bay Vista Baptist Church'.

"That was my Dad's," he said, pointing at the sign. "He used to be the minister over there."

"Used to be?" I asked.

"Yeah," he nodded. "He died a few months ago."

"Sorry," I said, embarrassed.

"Don't be," he said. "I don't believe in death. He's just gone on to another dimension, y' know?"

"You mean heaven," I replied.

He shook his head. "I don't believe in heaven or hell, either, man. I think we just... keep goin'. Either in this place, or somewhere else. Maybe eventually, we become part of something bigger."

This was getting too strange, I thought.

Pete took off his leather jacket. He was wearing a gray tank-top. I tried not to stare at his body, but I could see he was almost as muscular as Sky.

"Hey," he said, changing the subject, "speaking of something bigger, I see you enjoyed the ride over." He looked down and grinned at me.

I winced and readjusted my pants again. "Sorry. It's nothing personal," I muttered.

"Don't be," he said, grinning. "I consider that a compliment." He fired up the organ and hit a few keys. It whined for a few seconds, then a beautiful chord came out of its speakers.

"Hey," I said. "That sounds great!"

Pete smiled. "Come over here and let me show you some stuff," he said. "There's a lot I can teach you."

For the next couple of hours, I played Pete the basic chords I knew from my grandmother. I didn't know how the keystops and tabs worked on the top part of the organ, but Pete knew enough to make some adjustments. By the end of the afternoon, we were picking through some tunes pretty well, with him on guitar and me on keyboards. He had a special speaker called a "Leslie" that swirled the organ sound all around the garage.

"Real psychedelic, man," he said. "Groovy."

I nodded.

"The organ's one of the great instruments in rock music goin'. You know The Doors?" he asked.

"Sure," I nodded. "'Light My Fire,' 'People Are Strange,' 'Love Me Two Times,'" I said, rattling off their last few hits.

Pete picked up an acoustic guitar and started idly strumming. "Hello, I love you, won't you tell me your name," he sang.

"Yeah, that's a good one, too," I grinned.

He nodded and put down the guitar, then sat next to me at the organ. "You ever listen to the words in that song?" he asked, quietly.

I felt a little uncomfortable. "Yeah, I guess," I replied, looking down at the keys. "Well, maybe not real closely."

Pete thought for a moment. "Jim Morrison's a genius, you know," he said, seriously.

"My parents say the same thing about me," I said, laughing.

He grinned. "Yeah. I picked up that you were book-smart," he said. "But Morrison's smart on a cosmic level, y' dig?"

I was confused. "But it's just a song," I began.

"Listen to what it says. Have you ever heard of love at first sight?" he asked. Pete gazed at me, his long blond hair flowing over his bare shoulders.

I felt beads of sweat all over me. Despite the winter temperature, the garage felt a little warm.

"I nev... never really thought about it much," I stammered. Shit. Now I was starting to sound like Rick Lannigan.

"Do you believe in it?" he asked. "Love at first sight?"

I thought for a moment. I knew how I felt with Sky, but that was something that started slowly and then just snowballed over the years. On the other hand, Ronnie and I had hit it off pretty quickly, but I think he loved me more than... well, more than I liked him.

"Maybe. Sorta. Shit... I dunno," I said, finally.

Pete gave me a long look. "I do, Wil. And it's never happened to me before, until very recently." He was sitting uncomfortably close to me.

My throat felt dry. I started to speak, then choked.

"Lemme get you somethin' to drink," he said, jumping off the bench.

We downed a couple of Cokes in his tiny kitchen. While sitting at the little dinette, I tried steering the subject over to music. I didn't like the personal direction our earlier conversation had been headed towards.

"So how does your band practice here?" I asked. "Doesn't it piss-off your neighbors?"

Pete laughed. "Naaa," he replied. "I own both sides of the duplex. The other side is empty right now. I might rent it out over the summer if I need the dough. Otherwise, I kinda like my privacy."

I nodded and took a sip of my Coke.

"So," he said, leaning closer. "You were sayin' before that you liked the 'White Album.'"

I nodded. "Yeah, I love it," I sighed. "It's an amazing record. It's got so many musical styles, so many different kinds of things going on... it's incredible."

"The Beatles are fallin' apart, man," he said, casually.

"No!" I said, surprising myself with my anger. "That's impossible."

"I give 'em a year, maybe 18 months at best," he said, confidently. "Can't you hear it in the music, man? They're all over the place. They're no longer a group. They're just four guys, each playin' their own shit! They're not really together any more."

I shook my head. "I think they'll be together forever," I said, with absolute certainty.

Pete smiled sadly. "Nothin' lasts forever, Wil," he said. "Except maybe our spirits."

Here we go again, I thought. I'd had about enough of this. "There's no scientific basis for that crap, Pete," I said, rolling my eyes.

He laughed. "That's the boy genius talkin'," he replied. "That's not what your heart tells you." He pulled his chair closer to mine until we were less than a foot apart. "I know more about your heart than you do, Wil," he said, quietly.

I took another swig from my can and looked down at the table.

"You know about vibrations?" he asked.

I nodded. "You mean good vibrations, like..." I sang a few lines from the Beach Boys song.

"Yeah," he said, seriously. "Sometimes I feel 'em... sometimes I can actually see them, like an aura. I've seen yours, Wil."

I grinned. "I remember your note."

"Oh, that," he laughed. "Well, I wanted to make sure I got your attention. You and your girlfriend were really goin' at it on the golf course that night."

I winced. "She's not really my girlfriend. I'm... we're... we're not exactly together."

"Yeah," he said, nodding. "I figured that. You're more into that other guy. What's his name?"

Sky, I thought, my heart pounding. This was getting too scary.

"Listen, uh, Pete... I gotta go," I said, standing up. "It's been fun, and maybe we can, I dunno, play together again sometime."

Pete looked up at me. "Some things are meant to be, Wil," he said, softly.

I felt a shiver. "Yeah," I said, glancing at the clock, "and I was meant to be home in about 20 minutes."

"Let's go, then." He grabbed his keys and his helmet and we walked out to his motorcycle.

"Wait," he said, suddenly. "Lemme give you something." He took off back into the house, while I sat on the back of the 'cycle, struggling to get the spare helmet on my head. He came back after a minute, holding a canvas bag, which he opened up for me.

"I want you to listen to these," he said. "You got a stereo?"

I nodded. "Just got a new system for Christmas from my folks."

"Groovy," he said. "Check these out." Inside were copies of The Doors' Hard Rock Hotel and Strange Days albums, along with The Beach Boys' Friends and Pet Sounds. "You own any of these already?" he asked, as he put on his leather jacket.

I shook my head.

"They're gonna blow your mind, man," he said, excitedly. "The next time I see you, I want you to tell me what you think about 'em. But don't just listen to 'em -- I want you to feel 'em."

I nodded, and he fired up the engine and we sped off. Pete didn't say much on the way home. Once, we hit a bump and I squeezed him tighter, fearful of falling off. He turned to me and grinned, then patted my hand. About 15 minutes later, we finally pulled up in my driveway, and I could see the living room lights were already on and my parent's car was in the carport. I hopped off the back, took off my helmet and tied it to the seat-post.

"Thanks for a cool afternoon, Pete," I said, starting for the porch, with the bag of records under my arm. "And the music."

"Wait up, Wil," he called. He caught up with me and stood on the front step. "Listen, I... I don't want to rush you into anything."

"With the band, you mean," I replied, trying not to look at him directly.

"Yeah. Or with you and me," he said, quietly. "I know you got some things to work out, and I get the feelin' you just lost somebody."

Ronnie. I did miss him, but he wasn't that important to me, was he? I didn't answer, but instead walked up the steps, then stood at the door and turned back to him.

"I'll call you when I get a chance, Pete," I said.

"One last thing," he called, walking up beside me. "Listen, Wil, I... I know we just met and everything, but... I feel like I've known you all my life."

That makes one of us, I grumbled to myself.

"Can I give you some advice? Please?" he asked.

I nodded.

He hesitated. "You're... you're making a mistake with the person you think you're in love with now," he said, looking at me deeply.

Jesus, I thought. His eyes were an incredible shade of light blue. Enough to take my breath away.

"You mean Cynthia," I said, looking away.

"No," he said. "There's somebody else. One you've known for a long time."

I closed my eyes. Stop it, I thought.

"It can only end in tragedy," he said, sadly. "Major bad vibes. I'm sorry, Wil, but I'm never wrong about these things."

"I gotta go, Pete. G'night." I opened the door and stepped in.

"G'night, Wil. Don't forget what I said, man. And listen to the music!" he yelled, as he got back on his bike, gunned the engine, and rode off into the darkness.

"Who was that, dear?" called my mom, as I closed the door.

"Nobody, Mom!" I yelled, running up the stairs.

"William!" called my dad from the living room. "We don't want you hanging out with any motorcycle gang members!"

"Daaaaaad!" I whined from the landing. "He's a musician! He wants me to join his rock group over in St. Pete!"

"We'll talk about that later. Don't you have some homework to do?" he said.

I nodded and returned to my room. I hit the button on my stereo, lay down on my bed and let the White Album play on my tape deck. "It still sounds great to me," I said out loud. "The Beatles are much too successful to ever break up."

Try as I might, I couldn't get Pete's face out of my head. He was great-looking, sure, but... I dunno. Something about him scared me. Pete was spooky. It was as if he knew too much about me already. Despite his good looks, there had to be something wrong with him.

After dinner, I returned to the world of 1865, and lay on the living room couch, mulling over another book on Lincoln's assassination. I began to wish that I'd written my Civil War paper about John Wilkes Booth, instead. Around 9PM, the upstairs phone rang. "Wil," called my mother. "It's Ronnie Lannigan, long distance from Dallas! On your line!"

"Thanks, Mom!" I said, bounding up the stairs, and picked up the receiver. "Hello, Ron?"

"Howdy there, pardner," said an unfamiliar voice.

"Ron?" I whispered. "Is that you?"

Then I heard a familiar giggle. "I think I'm turning into a Texan, Wil!" he laughed.

"Hey, good for you!" I said, smiling.

"Things are great here, Wil," he said, excitedly. "We got horses and oil wells and fruit trees and all kinds of stuff. Uncle Bob's ranch house is practically as big as our old high school. It's like a MOVIE!"

"Sounds great, Ronnie," I said. Jesus, I was beginning to really miss the little guy. "I've thought about you a lot since you've been gone."

"Anyway, Wil," he continued breathlessly, "I just wanted you to know we're real happy here. You got our address, right?"

"Yeah," I said. "'Lannigan Ranch, 1400 Southwest Trail, Route 40, Plano, Texas, 75023.' Got it."

"Don't forget to write me, Wil," he said.

"I won't."

"And by the way," he whispered. "You should see some of the friends RJ's got! Sheee-it!" He laughed uncontrollably.

Suddenly, I felt like Ronnie was having too much fun. "Look, Ron, I kinda have to go, now."

"Me, too! So long, Wil!" he chirped, and hung up the phone.

I went in my room and lay on my bed. Shit. Ronnie was the biggest pest I'd ever known, but somehow... Dammit. Now there's something in my eye. He loved me -- at least he used to. But now I didn't have anybody.

I grabbed my other pillow and pulled it over my face, just to block out the world for a little while.