THE HARDY BOYS AND THE CASE OF THE BAREKNUCKLE BRAWLERS
When I came to it was in a hospital room. My friend Biff Hooper was sitting in the chair by my bed.
"Sleeping beauty finally awaken, whew, that was a close call."
"Where's Frank?" I said groggily.
"Don't worry, he's fine. He's down at the station ID-ing those thugs. You guys broke up that smuggling ring."
I met Biff at school in wrestling practice. He's a tall, muscular boy, blonde like me, but covered with golden body hair. He weightlifts and boxes and has the muscles to prove it.
He plays every sport and he has this cheesy all-American smile. He's a great friend and sometimes helps out on our adventures. He's probably my best friend after Frank.
"The doctors say you'll be fine, the bullet really just grazed you. A little scar, maybe but, hey chicks dig scars. You'll be back on the JV field in no time." He smiled, "You had me worried though," he added.
"Us Hardy boys are pretty Hardy," I smiled weakly.
"Hardy men, soon," Biff said, out of nowhere, really. Why was everybody so keen on being an adult all of the sudden.
Biff looked out the window.
"You guys are gonna have to give up all this boy detective stuff and go to college and figure out what you really want to do with your lives,"
"Careful Biff, you're starting to sound like our mom"
"Your mom, Frank isn't here, you're not an "our" now. Sheesh, you'd think you were Siamese twins instead of brothers."
I wondered about being twins, what if I looked just like Frank? How handsome, I could see myself naked every day, if I looked like Frank.
"So I'm thinking of applying to State University, on an athletic scholarhip, you should too, Joe. Imagine us on the Football team, we'd be unbeatable!" he threw his arm out, "C'mon, armwrestle me; I win, you come with me,"
"Quit foolin, Biff, you know Frank'd never go to State U, besides, he doesn't want to go to college anyway, he wants to be a private detective, like our dad"
"A dick,"
"Yeah, a private dick."
"No, just a dick," Biff said sullenly. What was with him?
"Biff . . ."
"Listen, you almost got, I don't know, killed last night, these crazy adventures, I mean, sure, they were fun when we were kids, but I dunno, hearin' you got shot, it . . . well it makes a man think all sorts of crazy things, like what if I never saw you again, what if a guy never, you know, never realized how much a fella meant to him. All those hours after school at wrestling practice, locked up and grappling, did you ever think . . . did you ever think Joe, what was it we were wrestlin' for?"
"The state championship trophy," I said.
Biff looked away,"Yeah, the trophy,"
Biff and his weird moods, I think it was all the egg whites he drank for breakfast. He got like this once before, he was boxing, real surly stuff with some adults, it turned out they were connected to the mob, me and Frank cracked that case wide open, but it was right after the big fight between Biff and Haymaker Harrison, it was a TKO, Biff was just too quick on his feet, but he was scared, we were alone in the lockeroom and I was unlacing his fingerwraps. He had taken a pounding, standing there in his boxing shorts, his eye puffy and bruised, his chest heaving, the honey-golden hair there matted with sweat. I slowly pulled off the fingerwrap for him and told him what a great job he did, so quick and brave. Finally as the last of the fingerwrap unspooled his fingers laced mine. Both his hands held mine. His hair was matted to his forehead and there was a cut on his cheek, I would have wiped it away but his hands held mine fast.
"I don't think anyone in the world could take you in a fair fight, Biff, you're amazing," I said. The cords of his muscles popped like steel. He had been training very hard.
"Not even Frank?" he said.
"Of course not, I said, Frank's a tough guy and a scrapper, but he's more a thinker, you, you're a fighter!" I said. He stared at me. Hard, maybe he was just so exhausted from the fight he just couldn't look away.
"Tell me I'm better than Frank, Joe" he said.
"You're a better boxer, Biff"
"No, just better," he said, still staring at me, a bead of sweat ran down his forehead and he blinked it away, and it rolled down his cheek like a tear.
"I wish you were my little brother. We should be brothers, we like the same things, Frank could care less about football and cars. You look like me, we're both blonde, look at us,"
he turned me around and there we were in the hazy, old murky lockerroom, mirror. Me, with Biff behind me, with his hands on my shoulders. We didn't look anything alike.
"It should be me, Joe, not Frank. But it's always Frank, isn't it?"
"It's always Frank, isn't it?" I snapped out of my reverie.
"What?"
"There's more to life than family, Joe. You got to grow up and leave the nest some day,"
Well that was easy for Biff to say, he didn't know what is was like being the youngest, knowing everyone was gonna grow up and leave you all alone. I just wish everyone would just shut their stupid mouths for five minutes so a guy could get some peace, I mean, what? Does a guy got to get shot to get a little peace and quiet, and why wasn't Frank here, he was the one that got me into this mess, and now where was he? I stood up and immediately the pain in my leg flared. I sat right back down. Biff hopped up and came over to me. He pushed me back down on the bed. He could be pretty forceful when he needed, the brute. He grabbed my leg, the injured one and started massaging it.
"Here, let me massage this. Coach does it for me all the time after a track meet. It'll help, I promise." he was smiling and when Biff smiled his sunny, surfer boy smile the whole room lit up. I leaned back. He began massaging my leg and it did, actually feel better. He lifted the knee so my leg was bent at the waist, and put my foot on his chest and worked his way down, from my ankle, to my calf, down my hamstrings, rubbing in slow, deep waves with his thick, strong hands. The backless hospital gown left my ass exposed, if he went any further down, he'd hit my bare ass. He pushed on my leg, so my knee was almost in my chest, and put his whole body into it. I could feel his pelvis against my exposed ass. It was . . . lumpy. He was kneading the back of my legs, getting dangerously close to what he called my glutes. He started using both hands now, he took a handful of both of my asscheeks, this wasn't like any massage I had ever gotten. He grabbed hard with both hands and scooted my ass closer to him. I could feel something in his pants, something hard, and something big, pushing into my ass.
"Biff," I said.
"Does it hurt Joe?"
"No," I said.
"Then don't stop me."
I looked up at Biff, so handsome, BMOC handsome, with his winning smile and bright blue eyes, maybe he's right, maybe we should have been brothers. If Frank wasn't my brother it would make certain things less complicated. And Biff and I had been through so much. Maybe it was the medication, I don't know, I was so confused.
He pushed both my legs back, now one hand caressing my foot where it lay pressed up against his chest, the other reached down, his fingers slipping over the globe of my ass, then where my asscheeks met, then up the seam, where my ass got slightly hairier, he was moving his finger very deliberately, and staring at me, while he did it. There was only one place left for his finger to go, I sucked in breath, and then it went there. My whole body was tingling, my cheeks were warm and my ears were burning. The whole thing felt uncomfortable, in my head all I could think is why is Biff Hooper putting his finger in my ass, but my body, quite on a different path from my mind, reacted by it's own logic. I'm disappointed to say I actually spread my legs just a little but wider, giving him access, and tacit permission. The bullet wound was one thing but I was dying to know what would happen next. As my legs parted, almost imperceptibly, a grin washed over his face. Not the megawatt Biff Hooper grin, this was a different Biff. This was a rascal Biff.
He looked like one the thugs whenever they'd get that gleam in their eyes before they Ôd tie us up. He rubbed me with one finger, lightly pressing the depression down there between my legs. Then he brought his hand up to his mouth, licked his finger, brought it back down and now, moistened, slipped it inexpertly but gently and insistently in my asshole. My breath caught and I was electrified.
"Biff. . . " I said.
"Don't tell me to stop," he said, his eyes were pleading, like mine must have been with Frank only the night before, then he leaned down and whispered in my ear.
"Pretend I'm Frank if you have to," and then he kissed me. On the mouth and with his tongue rushing in like runaway wave. I'd never kissed anyone like that, not even a girl.
And I realized how much I wanted it to be Frank. My first kiss like that. Biff pulled my hair in a fist and I opened my mouth fully to let his invading tongue in, his weight boring down on me, something definitely hard and definitely big pressed in his pants between us.
"Ahem,"
Just like out of a nightmare, sure enough, Frank was standing in the doorway watching me with my legs wrapped around Biff Hooper, his tongue in my mouth. What was I thinking? What had come over me? Biff stood up immediately.
"Uh, Frank, I was just, uh, hugging Joe. I'm just so happy he's alive."
"Clearly." Frank said drolly. He looked down at me, during the commotion my hospital gown had dropped up and over my crotch, my hard dick was right in his sightline. I pulled it down, but my cock was still clearly visible under the gown. Worse, Biff's big dick was protruding through his jeans and there was a large wet spot near the front.
"Uh, glad everything is OK. I'll leave you two to Hardy boy business," Biff said and fumbled out of the room.
Frank came in, looking quizical. It was the look he'd get as soon as he'd stumbled on a clue, before he'd figured it out.
"I just got back to the station, I was able to positively identify one of the guys who shot at you and he squealed on his friends. It turns out they were part of a larger ring of smugglers working out of that cove . . ."
"Yeah, well, don't worry, my leg is fine." I said.
"I know, I stayed through the surgery while the doc sewed you up. So listen, I was thinking about what those thugs were talking about in the cave, remember, the Skeleton Key? At first I thought, oh it must be a literal skeleton key, then I thought, waitaminute, what if it's like an island key. I looked and sure enough there's a key called Skeleton Key 20 miles off the coast. We should take the Sleuth out and investigate . . ."
"I'm not investigating anything," I said.
"The doc said you'll be back on your feet in no time," Frank chirped.
"Take Chet." I said angrily.
"Besides, I'm going to state college on an athletic scholarship with Biff and I'm not going to have any time for investigations anyway." I crossed my arms over my chest and looked out the window. That finally got a rise out of him.
"I didn't realise you and Biff were . . . so close." he said.
"He's my best friend," I said.
"That looked a little more than friendly," he said uncomfortably.
I looked at him. "Well, what if it was?" I said, testing him. To see if he would be revolted by the idea. Disgusted in me. And he did look pained.
"Then . . . then I guess Biff is a lot luckier than we already thought," he said.
"Oh quit, I don't know what that was, he fell on me," I said.
Franks eyes didn't soften, he still hadn't solved the mystery and he could spot a red herring a mile away. "It looked like you enjoyed it," he said and then looked down at my crotch.
"And what if I did?" I said, testing again. He swallowed hard.
"Then I guess I'm happy for you and Biff," he said. Oh, Frank not everyone can be daddy's favorite and the teachers' pet and live up to all those expectations and always get it right. There's only room in a family for one Frank, the other one has to be a Joe by default.
"Fine, fine," I said changing the subject, "As soon as I'm off crutches I'll go to your stupid island."
He brightened and said, "that's great, the doc said you won't even need crutches!"
Great.