This story concerns teenage gay males who may be involved in sexual situations. If it is illegal for you to read such stories, or if you do not like to read such stories, please leave now.
This story is copyright 2006 by the author who retains all rights.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
This is my first submission to Nifty. Any comments or questions are welcome at: carl_holiday@att.net
Kiel's Story
by Carl Holiday
Chapter 2 -- What Are Friends For
"Geoff?" A somewhat familiar voice said in the telephone handset I was holding.
"Yeah?"
"Can you help me?"
"Who is this?"
"God, Geoff, it's Monica. It's been like what three weeks since schools been out. You've forgotten the sound of my voice already?"
"Oh, Monica, yeah, the short dumpy girl with miniscule breasts who keeps asking me to take her to dances. How's it going, Monica?"
"Don't get smart with me, Geoff, or I'll have Mark rearrange your face."
"That would be Mark, the defensive tackle, or Mark, the tight end."
"Does it make a difference."
"I can run faster than the tub of lard who can't see three feet past his helmet, but can smell a quarterback a mile away."
"No, the other one."
"Oh, yeah, him."
"So are you going to help me with my homework from summer school?"
"Which class?"
"I only have to take algebra."
"Monica, I thought girls were supposed to be smart."
"Well, I'm not."
"So, what's the problem?"
"Can I come over?"
"Sure, maybe the new boy next door will come over the dazzle you with his athletic ability."
"You mean, Kiel Elkins?"
"Don't tell me you know him, too."
"Yeah, he goes to my church. He's kind of skinny for me, but you should like him."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"God, Geoff, you act like you're the only person in school who doesn't know you're queer."
To be honest, Monica, does keep asking me to take her to dances, but she has her heart set on the mean SOB who thinks with his fists. Good thing he doesn't play basketball because he'd foul out in the first quarter. And, other than Stevie, I thought she was the only one who suspected I wasn't fully committed to getting married sometime after college. Now, I have to wonder how many other members of the sophomore class think yours truly can't be trusted in a room full of naked boys, not that I've had any trouble so far. You can't be too careful with teenage boys on hormone overload and scared to death someone might think they're into a little mutual handiwork. The last thing I want is to ruin a perfect set of teeth that didn't cost my parents a cent.
But, what is she implying about Kiel? He's kind of personable, but standoffish too. It's like he wants to get to know me, but doesn't want to get too close. Maybe he does tie his shoes the other way around, like they say about us of the wandering eye, not that I've noticed his eyes wandering around me. Maybe I'm not his type, or maybe he's not sure and is afraid I might notice.
I've been there. Last year when Stevie and I were getting close, real close, too close, Monica was the first to mention we seemed to be attached at the hip and hoped we were attached front to back. I laughed it off, but Stevie practically stopped talking to me. He had his lunch changed by switching study hall with Washington State History. I don't know how he managed that, but suddenly I didn't see him except at third period PE and fifth period English.
For three months he stayed away from me and then one Saturday morning when my parents were out looking for a new rhododendron to put in the backyard Stevie came over and pulled me into a lip-lock that didn't stop until he had me stripped down to my underwear. It's a good thing they took Sally with them because my underwear didn't stand much of a chance against Stevie's assault, either. The only thing that made that morning regrettable was it was the last time Stevie and I got together. He was dead the next Wednesday afternoon, burnt to an unrecognizable pile of ash and bone fragments.
The following Monday, just after the funeral, I was standing on the Washington Memorial Bridge watching a couple sailboats out in Lake Union. After a few minutes I was sitting up on the railing willing myself to let go. There was nothing under me except nearly two hundred feet of air until smashing into the water below. Only I wasn't over the water. There was a traffic filled street directly below me. I still don't remember the policeman grabbing me and pulling me away from certain death.
I woke up four days later in the County General psych ward among a bunch of horny crazies who thought my cute teenage ass was their personal property. It's a good thing Stevie and I had a chance to explore some of the more subtler methods of male to male sex or I'd still be walking around like I had a corn cob stuck up my butt. I thought psych drugs were supposed to dull the senses, but they certainly didn't affect those guys' libidos one iota.
I was back in school a week later with a sore jaw and a fat, bald psychologist who didn't have the foggiest idea what made a teenager tick, let alone one who just lost his best friend, but I slipped back into being the smartest freshman at North Park High, which isn't difficult considering all the other smartees were down at St. Xaviers. Monica, Mark the tight end, and Tim, who had been Stevie's partner in doubles tennis, welcomed me back to the table closest to rear exit with practically open arms. Well, maybe Mark was a little reluctant to get too close, but I figured he just wasn't into buddy hugging. Maybe since he and Monica were so close, he knew more about me than I wanted him to know.
In August, Mom and Dad were supposed to take me and Sally down to Disneyland because we could stay with Dad's little brother who was some sort of movie producer and had a huge house in Bel Air. The only problem I had was Stevie was supposed to go with us, so I wasn't particularly happy when Mom decided Kiel could sub for Stevie. Of course, Sally was happier than a slice of veal still on the hoof. She was practically giddy because her favorite babysitter was going with us. She was looking forward to a lot of listening while Kiel read her sappy storybooks. I wanted some strong arms around me at night in bed, but I hadn't had that since Stevie turned into toast.
Kiel and I were next door neighbors, but that was about as close as we seemed to get. He'd come over and put me to shame at horse, which isn't hard since I can barely get a basketball through the hoop when standing on a ladder. Of course, Stevie was just as bad, so it wasn't like I felt all that embarrassed. Only, it wasn't the same because Stevie was more than likely to sneak a quick peck on the lips to make me feel better. I didn't think I knew Kiel enough to expect that from him. We'd been to a few movies, but each time we went with Monica, Mark, and Tim, who always ended up sitting beside me and always tried to get his hand in my crotch. I don't know what Stevie and he were doing in the showers after a tennis match, but I wasn't having any of that stuff, especially with Kiel sitting on the other side of me. It's one thing to be felt up by your best friend and quite another to get the same action from his tennis partner.
So a week before we're to leave, Kiel comes over to our house to invite me to go with him to Tim's house on Mallard Lake. Imagine a pearly white, skinny teen in cut-offs. I know, scary, scary thoughts. The cut-offs looked new. Who cut the legs off of new jeans? Kiel always seemed to have new clothes. At least he was wearing a t-shirt, but it was too big. The beach towel had pink and lavender flowers. If that was supposed to be a clue, I wasn't having any of it.
I was up to my room as fast as my clumsy feet could carry me, followed close behind by Kiel. I needed a pair of cut-offs for swimming and briefs to match. The last thing I needed was my mother yelling at me because I wore something new. Kiel stood by my window, which was open because it was hot upstairs, and watched me change. I've undressed in front of hundreds of boys in PE since sixth grade. Stevie and I were naked enough together that we never blinked an eye to a free striptease, but I sw ear I heard Kiel gasp when I pulled off my good briefs.
I am not hung. I'm not little by any means, but I'm not endowed, either. Personally, I think I'm a little on the short side of average, but maybe I was a little excited by Kiel watching me.
"What?" I asked, looking straight at him. He wasn't looking into my eyes. He wasn't looking out the window, the Boy's Life in his hand, or the floor. His eyes were glued right where I didn't want them. "Haven't you seen one of these before?"
"You're not circumcised," Kiel whispered.
"Uh, no."
"I'm not either," Kiel said so quietly I could barely hear.
"Great! At least we have one thing in common."
"Yeah." He turned to stare out the window. I know how he felt. Being the only Christian dick in a locker room full of wannabe Jews can be downright embarrassing, especially if you're twelve and everybody is looking for a flaw, something contrary to assumed normality. I certainly took my share of ridicule. I suppose Kiel went through the same shit. He certainly looked embarrassed now. Then I saw the bulge. A very big bulge.
"What's the matter, Kiel? Get a hard-on looking at my dick?"
"Yeah," he said not turning around. I almost wanted to tell him to turn my way because it wouldn't be so obvious, but I was kind of enjoying what I could see.
I finished changing my clothes, slipped on my sandals, and found a beach towel in the linen closet. Kiel was still in my bedroom, staring out the window.
"Well, think about something else because I want to go swimming, even if it is at Tim's house."
"What's wrong with Tim?"
"Nothing."
"He was Stevie's tennis partner, wasn't he?"
"Yeah."
"You're still bothered about Stevie dying, aren't you?"
"He was my best friend."
I wasn't going to let myself cry, not in front of Kiel. I ran down the stairs. Then suddenly stopped, surprised I didn't kill myself. Maybe you're not supposed to think when coming down stairs. Nah, must have been the need to get away from Kiel.
"Come on, Geoff, slow up. It's too hot to run." He was at the top of the stairs coming down awkwardly as if he had too much of something stuffed in his too tight cut-offs. He was actually walking kind of funny. I know it's not nice to laugh, but his problem was so obvious.
"Come on, Donkey Dick, the water's getting warm."
"Don't call me that, Cry Baby."
I froze. I couldn't move. One of the crazies in the psych ward called me a cry baby when he tried to fuck me. That was before he learned I had a much better talent for easing his sexual tensions. I couldn't help myself dropping to the floor and rolling into a ball. I couldn't move. I couldn't stop myself from crying.
I felt Kiel kneel behind me and start to caress my shoulder. He was shushing me very quietly. It was so calming listening to his soft voice. It was almost like a cat purring.
I rolled onto my back and stared up into his eyes. He smiled. I smiled.
"I'm sorry."
"I am, too," I said, sitting up.
"Do you still want to go swimming?"
"Yeah, if you can keep a secret."
"I won't tell anybody."
"Thanks, and no more names, okay?"
"Definitely."
It's nearly two miles from my house to Tim's parents' house on Mallard Lake. I'd been there with Stevie a couple times when we were going to Bruce Bigedic Middle School, but not having anything close to athletic talent, Tim took very little interest in me. Frankly, I could care less. I figured I was better off not knowing that many jocks. Stevie was as many as I needed to know.
I suppose Kiel's talents on the basketball court must have drawn Tim's interest, but why I was being included I had no idea. As it turned out, I kind of wished someone had clued me in.
Both of Tim's parents worked so we had the house to ourselves. I guess he didn't have any brothers or sisters, or they were all older and already gone. It was just the three of us. Kiel pulled off his t-shirt and jumped off the dock into the lake. He swam out to the float and sat there waiting for us. Tim's hand was on my ass.
"Do you have a problem or something?" I asked, swatting his hand away from me.
"Stevie said he fucked you and I was just checking you out," Tim said, much too loud to make me feel comfortable. Sound carries on a lake. On some lakes you don't even have to yell and someone on the other side can clearly hear you.
"Well, he didn't," and he didn't, but what I couldn't figure out was where Tim was getting his information. I couldn't imagine Stevie saying anything about what we did. We were best friends and best friends don't kiss and tell. Or, do they? Tim's hand was back and it was doing a lot more than checking me out.
"Come on, let's go to my room."
"I'm not going anywhere with you."
"Look, Mr. Smarty, it's either me or the defensive line on North Park's football team."
"What?"
"I can make your life a living hell, so come on. This'll only take a minute."
"No!"
"Come on, don't be stupid."
"No!"
"Geoff, I'm not putting up with this. Now come on!"
He was stronger, a lot stronger. Kiel hollered something unintelligible, but Tim yelled at him to wait. I wanted to struggle, but was afraid Kiel would notice. I don't know why I was afraid what he'd think about what Tim was going to do to me. Having been in the psych ward, I knew what to do to make it easy on myself without letting Tim know what I was doing.
"Take off your clothes," Tim said as soon as we entered his bedroom. "And, lie down on my bed. You know how to do it."
I did as he asked. He had some rubbers and some lube. He'd done this before. I wondered if he and Stevie were fuck buddies and Tim was simply assuming Stevie had done this to me, too. Yet, I couldn't imagine my best friend doing anything like this with Tim.
"I want to you moan like you're enjoying this or you'll be begging for mercy from the football team."
Good thing Tim had a short fuse because I wasn't in the mood to be moaning with his little dick doing hardly anything for me. There just wasn't any girth to it. Kind of like a pencil. Stuck it in and POW! It was over.
"You feel better now?" I said, pulling a tissue out of the box by his bed to clean myself.
"Yeah, thanks, I needed that."
"Did Stevie fuck you, too, or were you just doing him?"
"Your best friend wasn't my best friend, okay?"
"Oh, sorry."
"Yeah, well, maybe we can get together again sometime."
"When?"
"What do you mean, when?"
"Well, aren't you going to threaten me with the football team?"
"Nah, that was just to get you to do it. Hell, they'd probably want me to do them, too."
"Yeah, there are some mean SOBs on that team."
"I would like to get together again sometime. I know I don't have much of a dick, but ^Å"
"It's okay, Tim. I understand. I'll think about it, okay?"
"You can do me, if you want, sometime."
God! The last thing I needed right then was an apologetic rapist. And, why would I want to stick my dick into his hole? Because my best friend fucked him? God, suddenly I was beginning to wonder who Stevie Carlson was and why I sucked his dick, other than to keep him out of my hole.
Kiel was walking back up to the house when Tim and I came out. He looked like someone who just realized their ticket was for the 3:30 show, and not at 5:30 when they arrived at the theatre and saw the show has been closed for lack of interest.
"What were you guys doing?" Kiel asked.
"I wanted to show Geoff my stamp collection," Tim said. "But I forgot my Dad took it away because I wasn't studying last semester."
"Oh, and that took all this time?"
"Come on, Kiel, I want to go swimming," I said, walking past him, then running down to the lake. I pulled off my t-shirt and noticed it was inside out and I had it on backwards. Glancing back I saw Kiel and Tim talking. I wondered if Tim was letting Kiel know I took it up the ass. Then I thought that was what jocks probably did, anyway. Just one more reas on not to know a whole lot of them.