I just wanted to add a quick note to this because a few of you emailed me because of concern that this story is going in a completely different direction with the introduction of the new character, Daryl. To those I say: don't worry, this is by no means the end of Ken and Jamie.
As I mentioned at the start of the previous chapter, this series is very, very loosely based on some personal experiences, and it's easier for to write if I remain faithful to the timeline of those experiences, even if a considerable number of the details have been fictionalized. As I go on, I'm also trying to give the characters more depth in a way that, hopefully, makes them more believable, and ultimately makes the entire series more engaging.
So please keep reading and enjoying.
And please donate to Nifty! They're awesome for making this free! And it's a lot of work to maintain!
Ken and I - Part 20
Although I had developed no interest in girls, I couldn't help but become erect at seeing the couple engaged in their sexual activity. At 14, anything that even remotely resembled sex, or that I could misinterpret as sexual, gave me a boner even if it did include a girl.
The boy had a very obvious erection in his loose shorts and had his hand on it, lightly rubbing it, while encouraging the girl to give him a blowjob. He told her it was her fault that he was in this state, that being with such a beautiful girl did this to him. The girl's expression was somewhere between flattered and frightened; clearly she was nervous about doing this, whether due to inexperience, the outdoor location, or other factors that I couldn't guess.
As she stepped closer to him, he took her hand and placed it below his, so that as he moved his own hand it was hers rubbing against his member. He told her how excited he was to be with her, and leaned forward kiss her. He then whispered something in her ear that I couldn't hear, but it seemed that he'd convinced her to take things further. Leaning back, he slid his shorts down, letting his cock bounce into view. While I'd like to say that it was enormously long or thick, it really was neither. It was an average hard dick, not that I had an expert's knowledge of what constituted average. It was cut, and from where I was, I guessed it to be no more than six inches long, and not unusually thick, with a mushroom-like head.
With a few more words of encouragement and what looked like a little pressure on her shoulder, she leaned down and gave it a few tentative flicks with her tongue before taking the head into her mouth. The boy moaned and told her how good it felt, while holding her head and perhaps applying a bit more pressure so that she would take more if it in her mouth. She complied and for the next few minutes moved her mouth alternating between the taking the tip and about half of his length.
Other than the blowjobs that Ken and I had traded, I had never seen anyone else doing it; for some reason it occurred to me that I would probably be able to give him more pleasure with my mouth than she could with hers. I was absent-mindedly rubbing the front of my own shorts as I continued to watch them.
The boy had pulled the girl off his dick, and lifted her up to sit her on the edge of the boxcar opening. He pushed up her skirt and briefly touched the crotch of her panties before starting to slide the off. He'd commented on the dampness of her panties and told her that sucking him must've excited her. She smiled but didn't reply, other than letting out a moan of her own as he pushed his fingers between her legs. Other than the few pictures I'd seen in some magazines, this was the first time I'd seen what an actual girl looked like between her legs. I could see that he'd inserted two of his fingers into her, and was pulling them out, pushing them and moving them around in what I assumed was an effort to further excite her. It seemed to be working as she began to moan more continuously, and he repeatedly commented on how wet she was becoming. From the angle I was viewing, I could see that his dick was still steely hard as his other hand had been slowly stroking it. He stopped fingering her and pulled off her skirt, telling her that she was ready. Again he picked her up by her waist, and this time laid her down in the grass in front of the boxcar. He knelt down between her legs as he lifted them and began pushing his dick against her. After a few attempts he managed to slip the head in; I couldn't quite hear what she said, but did catch the word condom. He had told her not to worry as he pushed himself forward until the full length of penis was buried in her.
They had both moaned as he began thrusting himself in and out, with the occasional 'god' or 'fuck' thrown in for good measure, mostly from him. At the time I had no idea how long an encounter like this should last in order to be considered good or satisfying, but within a couple of minutes the boy's groans and expletives became louder and he was thrusting himself harder and harder against her. Suddenly he pulled back, his dick glistening with what I assumed was her 'wetness', and ropes of his cum spurting from the head. He was stroking himself as he ejaculated; some of it landed on her belly, some on the ground in front of her, and a considerable amount covered her vagina. With a final loud sigh, he fell back into the grass while the girl fumbled in her purse for tissues with which to wipe herself. She did not appear nearly as satisfied as he did.
I had become aware of my own impending orgasm as I had watched the boy's take place. The sight of cum squirting from his dick had sent me over the edge. I stifled a groan as I felt my cock twitch inside my shorts with every gush of my own creamy semen. In the background I could hear the couple shuffling as they pulled on their clothes. I could no longer make out what they were saying as they began walking away, but I was left with the impression that she was not happy and he was trying to soothe her.
I stood up and leaned against the tree while I waited for them to be well gone before I walked back to my bike. I could see and feel the wetness having spread across the front of my shorts. Some had even seeped through my briefs and was slowly running down the inside of my thigh. I pulled a tissue out of my pocket and tried my best to sop up as much as I could, but about the only thing I achieved was leaving bits of it stuck to my briefs and the front of my shorts. Eventually I walked the path and rode back home, while my sticky load dried.
A few days after this incident I was packed and ready to depart for my trip to see Daryl. I had hoped that Ken and Jamie were having a good time on their own trip, feeling a bit sad that it would be so long before seeing them, and also feeling a mixture of excitement and nervousness at my impending reunion with my best friend. I kept wondering if Daryl was actually still my best friend. Although we phoned each other, our contact wasn't overly frequent. I had never before had to think about why Daryl was my best friend, he just was. I wasn't really sure what the criteria was for being a best friend. I hadn't realized it at the time, but this was part of growing up, where classifying friends as best, or in whatever other categories where important at the time, became less important to me.
The flight itself was relatively uneventful, outside of the fact that it was all brand new to me. My parents had handed me off to a member of the crew, and she made sure that I got on board and had my seat. She checked on me periodically to make sure I was ok during the flight, and slipped me a few extra bags of pretzels when they were handed out. I'd had to pee once during the flight; I'd not heard of anything like the 'mile high club' and neither the confined space nor the knowledge that someone was waiting on other side gave me any desire to pleasure myself in there.
We landed, and I waited in my seat for the stewardess to collect me, walk me off the plane and hand me off to Daryl's mom. As we approached them, and in particular Daryl, I couldn't help but break out in a huge smile. I could see the same on Daryl's face and in a move that had really taken me by surprise, he had wrapped his arms around me and given me a hug. While Daryl and I were best friends, hugs had never really been part of our routine. Contact between us had most typically consisted of some punching and playful fighting. There had been some other contact, but it hadn't involved hugging either.
At some point Daryl must've felt like he'd hugged me far longer or harder than might be acceptable, so he abruptly pulled back. We were still grinning like a couple of fools, but there hung a slightly awkward silence between us. Now that we were face to face again it seemed like it was hard to find a place to start talking. I think we had both realized how much we had missed each other, but neither of us was willing to admit it out loud yet. On the phone we had a fairly basic routine of updating each other on anything cool or funny that had happened, and of course we'd trade some jokes, the really dirty ones only when our parents were out of earshot.
We had started some idle chatter, mostly mimicking our phone routine, when Daryl's mom told us we could talk all we wanted once we're at the house, but for now she wanted nothing more than for us to collect my suitcase so that we could leave the airport. Daryl's mom was friendly, but still as direct to the point as I had remembered. I spent most of the car ride gazing out the window, taking in the new sights of a place I'd never been before. From time to time I'd notice Daryl gazing at me and when he'd realize I saw him, he'd grin and we'd both laugh. I guess it had been our way of saying how good it was to see each other because of course boys of our age didn't get all emotional and mushy with each other.
About an hour's ride later we arrived at their house. It seemed slightly larger than our own house, and was much newer and that seemed to make it more fancy in my mind. I grabbed my bag from the trunk and we headed to the door and inside. Daryl's father greeted me with a hearty handshake, his comparatively large hand nearly crushing my own. Daryl's younger brother Mike and his older sister Terrie made an appearance to greet me as well. Mike had gotten a little bigger, but seemed relatively unchanged from when I'd seen him last. Terrie had changed a fair bit, most noticeably that her breasts had gotten much larger and overall she seemed much more like an adult than I'd remembered. She reminded slightly of the girl I'd seen at the boxcar, and I could feel the heat rising in my cheeks as the rest of that memory came forward.
"Forget these clowns, let's get you settled in my room", Daryl announced loudly, restoring some of that brashness that I'd always admired. His younger brother was about to flip him the bird, but thought better of it when realized that his parents were still right there.
"Supper will be in about an hour, I hope you're ok to wait that long Martin. If you want, there's some fruit you can have if you're hungry after the flight."
I hadn't really thought about being hungry until Daryl's mom mentioned it, but I politely declined. I was more interested in following Daryl to his room. Once there, Daryl began talking, more in that non-stop stream that I had been used to in the past. I wasn't sure if it was because he was trying to fill the silence and hide any nervousness that he felt at having me there, or if it was good old Daryl. I tended to go with the latter, as the Daryl I knew wasn't prone to nerves. He talked about his school, their house, the neighborhood, some of the cool trails on which to go biking, and it seemed like a million other things. I had tossed my bag on the floor and flopped on his bed as he talked. Daryl was an animated talker once he got going, with plenty of hand gestures and facial expressions to add to what he was saying.
To be honest, I'd only been half-listening; some of what he was telling were things he'd already talked about on the phone, albeit now in more detail and the added theatrics. As I laid on the bed, I looked at Daryl; it was the first chance I'd had since arriving to really take him in. He'd definitely gotten taller since I'd seen him, I guessed he was a good inch taller than I was, and he'd also filled out. Where I was still on the slender side, he had clearly gained weight with broader shoulders and chest. He wasn't what you would've called a jock, but he certainly appeared more athletic than I.
I was brought out of my state of mind when I heard Daryl say, "Yeah, and then I called him a stupid fucker and shot him in the head."
"What ....?"
"Oh, you're finally listening to me dick-breath", he grinned and laughed as he added, "... I thought you always hung on every word I'd ever said."
I rolled me eyes, "Whatever asshole, I'll listen when you've got something to say I wanna hear." Daryl laughed as he flopped down on the bed next me, and punched me in the arm, "Watch it you skinny prick, I'll beat your ass."
This was the Daryl I remembered, other than his language had gotten a bit more colorful, with just about every sentence started or punctuated with a dirty word or phrase. In a way it suited him; although I assumed he toned it down with his folks, it really worked with his personality and general attitude.
I couldn't help but grin, "Try it, you'll find I fight dirty!"
"Oh yeah? You mean like this?", he grabbed a fistful of my crotch and gave it a good squeeze, causing me to curl up and tell him to fuck off. He released his grip and began laughing uncontrollably at what he clearly perceived as having gotten the better of me.
I was about ready to retaliate when we heard his mother yell that supper was ready, "You're lucky your momma is calling you, dick head, this ain't over!"
We both laughed and got up to go eat. We sat in their backyard; Daryl's dad had barbecued some burgers and dogs, and we both ate like we'd not seen in food in ages.
"Christ, nothing wrong with your appetites", his dad laughed.
Daryl's family chattered the entire time we were eating, with the occasional question or comment directed my way. I'd answer between bites, trying to remember my manners of not speaking with my mouth full; I felt my mother would be proud. Daryl and his brother Mike didn't abide by the same manners, especially Mike who thought nothing of answering while his mouth was stuffed as full as it could be. Despite being admonished several times by their mother, they continued behavior that would've horrified my mother.
It was a beautiful evening, and we stayed outside for a long time, passing a ball between us and Mike. Terrie had excused herself as she apparently had a date to go on; Daryl had formed a circle with his thumb and forefinger, then slid the forefinger of his other hand in the circle in a universal sign of fucking. Daryl's sister saw him and flipped him her middle finger, telling him that his hands were as close as he was going to get to any action. Mike and I rolled on the grass, laughing at the insult she had landed. Daryl grumbled a 'fuck off', but it was clear that Terrie's comment had hit their mark; his face was a combination of anger and embarrassment. Daryl had never mentioned any girls on the phone with me, so I assumed he hadn't done anything. Despite some of the thoughts I'd had about Daryl while I had masturbated, I didn't think that he'd be into guys; somehow he didn't strike me the type. But then again, I had always hoped that I didn't strike others as the type either.
As it began to get dark, we went in. I yawned and realized that the trip out had made me more tired than I thought, and it seemed to be catching up with me. I told Daryl that I thought maybe I'd go to bed and get a fresh start in the morning. I hadn't expected that Daryl would also go to bed, but he came with me. The house was set up with three bedrooms, a bathroom and an open area on the lower level; the kitchen, living and dining rooms, and a small bathroom on the main level; and the master bedroom on a small upper level with its own bathroom. I grabbed my toothbrush and paste from my suitcase and headed to the bathroom; although I had pajama bottoms in my bag, I wasn't sure what Daryl slept in and I was just going to wait and follow his lead. I peed and brushed my teeth, finishing just after Daryl came in to brush his own teeth. He headed to the toilet to have his own pee, and as much I had wanted to stay and see how he'd changed there as well, I turned and walked out, heading back to his room. I realized that it might seem odd if I waited fully dressed, so I pulled off my shirt and folded it next to my bag. At home I'd never have folded a shirt I'd just taken off, but it seemed like it would waste some time until Daryl returned. I opened the suitcase on the floor so that I could access both sides; I took my folded shirt and laid it on one side while moving and rearranging a bunch of things on the other side. Time seemed to drag and I began to get nervous. I hadn't spent a night with Daryl for almost a whole year; I wasn't sure if our protocols had changed now that we were 14 and maturing.
Daryl walked in and closed the door behind him. Seeing me at my suitcase he said since I was staying a couple of weeks that if I wanted I could have one of the drawers in his dresser. I said it didn't matter, that he shouldn't bother emptying one, but he pulled the bottom one open and I saw that he'd already emptied it for me. I thanked him and emptied my stuff into the drawer. As I did, I noticed that Daryl started to get undressed. I'd also noticed that there was only the one double bed in his room, and he'd not mentioned anything about a cot or a sleeping bag. I wasn't sure whether to ask, and then thought that I'd leave it; if he'd wanted me to sleep somewhere other than his bed he surely would've said by now.
I had finished unpacking and was about to stand up so that I could finish getting ready for bed. Daryl had already removed his shirt and shorts, and was dropping them in a heap next to the dresser. As I turned to stand I realized that I was looking directly at Daryl's package; his briefs were well filled, and so it was clear that this part of his body had grown quite a lot over the last year as well.
Daryl walked over to his bed, pulled the thin top sheet back and flopped down.
I tried not to think about it as I pulled off my own shorts; I think if we'd not been apart for a year I would've thought nothing of it, even if I'd had a boner, Daryl would've just been that kind of friend if we'd experienced more of puberty together.
I was about to fold my shorts and add them to the things in my drawer, but decided to drop them where I stood. I couldn't remember ever being quite so nervous around Daryl. I felt like I wasn't quite sure how to act in that moment, afraid that if I folded my shorts that I'd seem prissy and feminine. Taking a deep breath, I turned to face the bed and saw that Daryl was looking at me. I'm not sure if he'd been watching the back of me the entire time, but his eyes clearly took in my front from top to bottom, lingering somewhere in the middle. I guessed that it would be natural for him to be as curious about how I was turning out as I was of him.
I walked to the door and flipped off his light; there was nearly a full moon and a considerable amount of light fell through his open window.
"You okay with the window being open tonight? Otherwise it gets kinda hot in here."
"No problem", I said as I laid down in the bed next to him, pulling the sheet part way up my body in the same fashion he had. We were both bare from the waist up, with our lower half covered.
We laid there not saying anything for a few minutes, when Daryl broke the silence, "You doing okay? I mean the trip was okay and everything? You've been kinda spacey a lot ... more than usual for a fucking space case like you."
He laughed, and I did too. For a moment I'd thought he was going to let some real emotions show. And maybe he had been, but felt he needed to cover it. Maybe he was waiting to see if I was going to act differently than we used to.
"Sorry, I guess I'm just more tired from the flight and everything than I thought. Thanks for your concern though ... asswipe."
"Well get your sleep pretty boy, I got a big day planned tomorrow!"
"What're we doing?"
"You'll find out ... I'd tell yeah, but you might get scared and piss yourself while you're sleeping!"
I took a mock sniff, "Whatever, smells like you've pissed the bed countless times!"
We took turns insulting each other for a short while, and it felt like it had on most of our earlier sleepovers. Even though I was tired, it was Daryl that fell asleep first. His talking slowed and stopped, and I could hear the deep breaths of his sleep. I laid awake for longer than I had expected. As Daryl slept I began to recall some other memories of the times we'd shared and from our many sleepovers, especially some of last ones we'd had.
I remembered grade six bringing on many changes. We were both twelve and our thoughts were becoming increasingly sexual in nature.
Often we'd bike over to the local store to buy candy. That always gave us an opportunity to pass the magazine rack, the one with the dirty magazines along the top; the covers were hidden but you could always read the titles: Playboy, Penthouse, Hustler. We'd hang out in the aisle until no one was coming through and grab one to flip through. Although I found that most of my sexy dreams at night were of boys, the sight of any naked flesh was enough to tent my shorts. That and the fact that I was doing this naughty thing with my best friend.
As we'd flip through the pages I'd push and tug at the front of my shorts. Daryl would grin and look at me, "What are you doing?"
"It needs to get comfortable," I'd laugh and reply, making Daryl grin even more.
As soon as an adult started down the aisle we'd push the magazine back on the rack, giggle and walk the other way.
One summer day, the summer that Daryl was moving, we were riding our bikes on the trails in the woods behind our place. In the brush along one side of the trail we saw some trash that had been dumped. We stopped as we noticed scattered among the trash were a bunch of magazines with titles we recognized from our trips to the local store. We both gathered some magazines and taking our bikes, pushed through the brush into a clearing a little way off the trail.
Dropping our bikes, we sat next to each other on a fallen log and began flipping through the magazines. My shorts tented immediately and I noticed the magazines were having a similar effect on Daryl. I tugged at my shorts as we looked at the pictures of naked women, prompting Daryl to grin and comment "Getting comfortable?"
I grinned back.
It was the first real secret I'd kept from Daryl. A couple of months previous I'd discovered that tugging on my erect penis and rubbing it on my bed made it tingle and feel incredibly good. I'd heard an older kid at school use the word 'masturbating', and being a bit of a nerd, looked up the word in the dictionary. I realized that the rubbing I was doing was called 'masturbation'. Achieving that tingly feeling had become a regular activity for me when I went to bed at night. At night I had vivid dreams. Daryl and I biking along the trails. We were naked and we had to double on my bike, with Daryl in front of me. I was aware of how hard my penis had become, my body breaking out in a sweat from the effort of riding and the sun shining on our skin. The riding caused my erection to slip and slide against Daryl's pale white cheeks. I'd awaken feeling out of breath, with deep contractions just behind my sack, which I'd noticed had started to hang lower from my body. Just two weeks prior I had awoken from a similar dream, feeling those same deep contractions. Grabbing the front of my pajamas I found they were damp; initially I assumed it was from sweating so hard, but when I reached into them I found the tip of my dick wet with a sticky fluid. From having looked up masturbation in other books I was aware that I was entering puberty and that I would begin ejaculating sperm. This had been what the books had called a 'wet dream'.
In response to Daryl's comment about getting comfortable, I blurted out, "Masturbating."
He grinned again with a quizzical look on his face, but didn't say anything else about it. It made me wonder that maybe he didn't know what it meant or that he hadn't yet discovered how good it felt. I had a brief mental debate in my own head whether I should tell him, knowing in my heart that if Daryl had discovered it first he surely would have filled me in.
Taking a deep breath, I was about to tell him when we heard some other kids coming down the trail. Although we couldn't be easily seen through the brush it spooked us; we grabbed our bikes and took off. In our haste we left the magazines behind, for which we kicked ourselves later because when we went back the next day they were gone.
A few days later Daryl was spending the night at my place. We had spent the better part of the day swimming and horsing around at the local outdoor pool, a favorite summer pastime for us. In the morning we'd put on our swim shorts, throw a towel over our shoulders and head out on our bikes. I was never quite sure why we bothered with towels since we rarely dried ourselves for the ride home. Back in my room we got ready to dry off and get changed into our regular clothes. By this point I was no longer shy about getting changed in front of most other boys, especially Daryl. Pulling off our damp shorts, I noticed that like mine, Daryl's balls had started to hang lower on his body.
As we began toweling ourselves dry Daryl suddenly asked, "What was that word you used the other day? You know, when we were looking at those magazines."
I hesitated for a second, and felt my heart start to pound a little harder. "You mean masturbating?"
Just saying the word to Daryl caused my penis to twitch. I'm not sure if he noticed or not, his brief response being, "Oh yeah." It was the first time that I'd felt Daryl was holding back; it wasn't typical for him to be satisfied without asking a whole lot of questions.
I wanted to say more, but just then my mother shouted through the closed door of my room that dinner was ready. In my mind I resolved that I would tell Daryl about my recent discovery that night at bedtime.
During dinner I felt like I was a million miles away. I doubt my family noticed, not because they were callous, but because when Daryl was around he filled in whatever quiet moments existed with non-stop chatter. I'm quite sure my parents found him exasperating at times, but generally they were just happy that I had such a close friend. And although they didn't always approve of some of the reckless adventures that Daryl instigated, they also saw the positive effect he had on me in terms of my self-confidence.
Afterwards we watched some television and much as during dinner, my mind was elsewhere.
I had become fascinated with looking at other boys at school or whenever I was out. And it wasn't just what they looked like. It was also about how they smelled, that slightly sweaty, sweet musky smell of a boy becoming a man. Whenever I passed a cute boy, which to be honest seemed like pretty much every one of them, I'd inhale deeply as though I'd be able to smell the scent of their nightly masturbation habits. Trying to spot boys suffering from random boners became a sport and the times when I did became prized memories to be replayed during my own nightly masturbation habit and dreams. I'd imagine them fingering their erections, rubbing themselves to achieve that same glorious release that I sought.
"I said it's time for you boys to get ready for bed. Honestly, it's like there's cotton in your ears," my mother brought me out of my thoughts.
Daryl poked me in the ribs prompting us both to laugh as we went to brush our teeth, pee and put on our pajamas. Back in my room we horsed around for a while until my mother banged on the door and told us to knock it off. Still laughing we climbed into my bed. From our first sleepover on we'd always slept in the same bed, and that hadn't changed. Except that for me it had become something special to which to look forward; while Daryl slept I was close enough that I could inhale his scent as much as I wanted.
Lately I'd been having feelings of wanting to reach out and touch him in his sleep, to touch his penis, to feel his erection. I hadn't acted on those feelings when I first had them; he was my best friend and I already felt guilty for having such vividly dirty thoughts and dreams about him.
During the final few sleepovers, knowing that Daryl was moving, the temptation to touch him became overwhelming. I would wait until Daryl was soundly asleep, and with my heart beating so loud I was sure it would wake not only him, but my parents in the next room, I slowly moved my hand under the sheets until it was pressed against Daryl's side. I could feel the cotton of his briefs and the heat of his body. Steeling myself, I slowly moved my hand further up his briefs until it was on the front of them. I could feel his penis under the fabric, my own threatening to burst through my underwear. For two sleepovers it was as far as I had dared to go; I would place my hand there and use my other hand to rub myself until I climaxed. I became bolder during the last two sleepovers; Daryl had slept soundly the previous times and so I started with my hand in the same place, but then slowly moved it up and under the waistband of his underwear until my hand was in direct contact with his dick. At this point I had a few hairs sprouting on my mound, but Daryl's still felt smooth. As I touched him I felt his dick grow and stiffen. I held still, afraid that if I moved now I would wake him. But his breathing continued as it had and I slowly rubbed his a little as I rubbed my own with the other hand. Actually feeling another boy's cock, his cock, was both frightening and exhilarating. During both sleepovers I could feel the tip of dick getting slightly damp; this caused me to climax hard and I was afraid that my heavy breathing during and after my orgasm would surely bring him out of his sleep. But it hadn't.
And now I was laying next to Daryl again. Except this time he was so much more grown from what I had seen in his briefs. And I had already experienced the feeling of real teen cock in my hand and mouth. My cock was now rock hard, and I was feeling the temptation to touch him, to see if it would feel the same as touching Ken. I was sweating, and in the end I resisted the urge to reach over.
I finally drifted off, but my sleep was restless.