South Africa
Part 4

The coach and some of the guys from the boxing team had organized a sparring competition in the gym at school. It was cool to see Kyle there, and I guessed our morning workouts with the punching bag had kinda sparked a pugilistic interest in him. He did pretty well, too, considering he was up against one of the guys in the team. What he lacked in technique, he certainly made up for with determination. The fiery little dude would hang in there no matter how many times he was hit -- and he'd manage to score the odd power-packed punch himself.

"Hey, bud, you've got potential," I said to Kyle in the showers. "Maybe you should join the team."

"Nah, I enjoy going a few rounds and hitting the bag with you, but I only do it for fitness and to let off a bit of steam. I'm more into swimming and surfing."

"You're right about letting off steam," I smiled. "I figure I'd be a right asshole if I didn't box."

"What makes you think you aren't already?" The kid had that cheeky look on his face -- the kind that was difficult to read.

"You serious?"

"Well, man, when I see you in the ring, you're as aggro as all fucking hell. But then you're a different person afterwards."

"Like how?"

"Kinda laid back."

"You a fucking shrink or something?"

"There's nothing about me that shrinks, dude." He waved his cock around and grinned.

Next day, the whole school was pretty nervous about getting their grades from the exams. There was a strong feeling going around that our marks would be down. Sure enough, our suspicions were proved to be correct. Most kids went down by about 15%. The teachers argued that they deliberately set the papers high, but how were we supposed to explain that to our folks? The whole exam thing was a fucking sham, and it sucked serious ass.

During break, a bunch of us were sitting around chatting about girls and stuff. I agreed with most of the guys who argued that chicks were mostly a pain in the butt 'cause they always wanted to hang around like a bad smell. Then, when you went steady, they wanted to know about everything you did every fucking minute of the damn day. We all cracked like hell at that piece of teen wisdom. The only guy in the group, though, who had a major thing happening with a girl was Ross.

"Hey, Ross," some dickhead yelled without thinking, "is she as good a fuck now as when I was screwing her?"

Ross's face went as red as a beet as he glared at the dude. I thought we were gonna have a serious rumble on our hands, but Ross chilled. If he hadn't, the dickhead would've been dead meat for sure.

As usual, it was Kyle who took the hard edge off the situation. "Maybe it's 'cause your dick is too small, Ross," he laughed.

"Fuck you, Kyle!" Ross barked. "Fuck you, wimpy!"

Then Kyle reached into his pants and pulled out his semi, which made us all crack big time. Naturally, Ross wasn't gonna be outdone, so he whipped out his cock, too. Both dicks were about the same size -- about six on the slack -- so it really wasn't a contest.

"Wimpy, huh?" Kyle's face dissolved into a teasing grin. "Then I guess you must be as well."

"Yeah, I guess both of us could demolish a couple of pussies with these things, huh?" Ross laughed.

"Yeppo." Kyle had managed to successfully diffuse a potentially aggro situation with his humor. And the dickhead who hassled Ross? Well, he kinda went silent after that, realizing that if he was gonna get into an argument with Ross, he'd have to do it alone.

The rest of the convo was mainly about music and movies, but particularly about the opening of the new Star War movie that coming Friday, and a lotta the guys were planning to see it. As I listened to the guys talking and laughing, I observed Kyle. He seemed to be able to get along with everybody with the least possible effort. When I'd first noticed him some months ago, I thought he was just some showoff jerk trying to impress everybody. I was dead wrong, though. Sure, he was impressive, but he wasn't a tryhard. Popularity came naturally to him -- like the way he whipped out his dick just a while back, as if it were a totally natural thing to do. On the one hand, he was uninhibited but, on the other, he wasn't trying to prove anything. How could a guy be so fucking uncomplicated? I wondered. Maybe I should hang with him and learn something.

We were just one day away from midyear vacation. The good news was that my mom wasn't too fazed by the exam results -- she'd heard from other parents that all the students had suffered a similar fate. The bad news was that Kyle and his bud Steve, with whom I got along pretty well, were gonna be away at Jeffreys Bay for the Billabong Surfing Champs. I was gonna miss the spikey-haired fucker, and his dumb grin -- not to mention our morning workouts at the gym. But that's the way it always was for me -- I'd get to like somebody and they'd fuck off somewhere. What did Kyle have that I didn't? How come I didn't have a bunch of close friends like he did? OK, so I had friends, but not like Kyle. Mine were just guys I hung with 'cause it was convenient, but not 'cause I really liked them. If it weren't for my girlfriend, my social life would've been fucking zilch.

On the last day of school, I'd made up my mind to talk Kyle into one more sparring session before the holidays. "Hey, bud, I'm feeling kinda tense. Wanna go a few rounds with me after final assembly?"

"You look aggro."

"Yeah, I need to beat up on somebody. You wanna be that somebody?"

"Hell, yeah!" he laughed.

Damn, that dude was always so full of fucking surprises. He could've said "yeah", but he said "hell, yeah" as though he was hoping I'd ask him. What I couldn't understand was why he bothered with me when he had so many other friends. What did I have to offer? Hell, I didn't even surf.

That afternoon, we put our headgear and gumguards on, got into the ring, and went for it. I wanted this dude to remember this session while he was away in Jeffreys Bay -- I didn't want him to forget me.

There was no doubt that I was superior to him in the ring, but the feisty little fucker gave as good as he got, laying into me at every opportunity. He had spirit to burn. He was like some little terrier that grabbed hold of your ankle and wouldn't let go no matter what. I admired him for that, so much so, I'd call a halt to the fight if he stuffed up, then show him what he was doing wrong. He was a damn quick learner -- and my ribs and stomach soon paid the price.

"Actually," he said as we headed for the showers, "I wouldn't mind going a round or two in a real fight."

"It's not so bad if you know what you're doing. Sorry about the scratch, by the way." The laces on my glove had caused a major graze across his left side.

"I'll live. Anyway, it was a totally cool session. I really enjoyed it."

"I'm fighting in a junior tournament during the hols. Wish you could come and see me, but you'll be away."

"I would if I could, Mark. Honest. I'd love to see you in a tournament. I reckon you'd be fucking awesome!"

"Like you are when you ride your board?"


While we were showering, Kyle was taking more than the usual interest in my cock. I wasn't sure if I should say something about it, and even if I did, what could I say?

"You jack off, right?" he said eventually, and in a fairly serious tone.

"Doesn't everybody?"

"Well, this friend of mine told me about a new technique -- at least, one that I'd never heard of before."

"Jacking is jacking, man. Doesn't take a fucking rocket scientist to figure it out."

"No! This is totally wicked! Check this out!"

I watched his fist wrap itself around what was by this time a full-on boner. The hot water was cascading all over his tanned skin, making him look pretty damn sexy. "You jack off like normal for about five minutes or until you sense that you're gonna offload, and then you stop."

"'Cause somebody's knocking at your bedroom door?"

"No, you fucking idiot! Then, when you've kinda settled, you fist your throbber for another five minutes or so, and stop again before you blow. You do that for maybe twenty minutes until you can't stand it a moment longer. Your knob gets mightly swollen and goes kinda pink. It's so damn tender, I can't tell you! Then, when you're ready to jet your juice, you take your hand away and the fucking thing goes fucking feral! Honest! It fucking bucks around like some crazy mule and fires your juice all over the fucking place! And the feeling is totally fucking wild! Incredible! Whoa!"

"You need a girlfriend, dude."

"Don't gimme that shit. You just try it yourself and see if I'm right."

"Maybe I will, but not right now, dude," I laughed.

"What the fuck are you laughing at, Mark? You've got a fucking boner already!"

"What d'ya expect, for fuck's sake? All that fucking talk of yours has given me a damn rise."

"So why don't you jack off?"

"Here? Yeah, right. Are you crazy?"

Well, Kyle was right. I tried his jacking technique that night and it was the most awesome solo session I'd ever had. It felt so fucking cool, I could hardly wait to do it again. When I first started to fist my throbber, I thought about the usual stuff -- fucking a girl or whatever -- then I kinda got around to visualizing Kyle's hot, wet, tanned bod in the shower with his boner -- then thoughts of him and Ross in the quad casually whipping out their semis in front of the rest of the kids -- that was just so fucking cool -- then mental images of his wicked lips riding my shaft -- and finally imagining a bucketful of my thick, sticky juice splattering all over his cute face.

Whoa! I shot such a huge fucking load, it would've drowned an elephant.

Kyle and Steve were leaving for Jeffreys Bay on July 1, which was Kyle's birthday, but Steve had organized a surprise party for his bud to take place the day before. "You wanna come, Mark?"

"I don't know the dude all that well."

"Bullshit. He talks about you all the fucking time -- drives me fucking crazy -- Mark this, Mark that -- he loves sparring with you and all that punching bag stuff. He likes you a stack."

"He does?"

"Yeah! He thinks you're totally cool. It'd be totally outasight if you could make it."

"I've got other plans that night, but I could drop by for a while."

"Cool. See you there!"

Kyle's folks herded a bunch of us into the den after they'd sent their son on a wild goose chase to Steve's place. Steve would invent some story and bring Kyle back home. There was a hush as we heard the guys open the front door and enter the darkened house. The moment Kyle walked through the door of the den, somebody threw the light switch and we all started singing "happy birthday". The kid's eyes were bouncing on springs, while his jaw was scraping the floor. He surveyed the room not believing what he was seeing -- all the guys and girls -- the cake with its seventeen flickering candles. He was speechless. He spun around and saw Steve standing behind him, grinning like a Cheshire cat. "You! Dammit! You knew all the damn time!"

Kyle's mom walked up to her son and gave him a huge, warm hug. "Hey, you didn't think we were gonna let you go without a small celebration, did you? Your dad's got something for you."

We all watched as Kyle opened the package. The atmosphere was primed with the electric excitement of anticipation. We could tell that his head was still spinning big time from the surprise -- and that it was like he was floating around in some kinda surreal dream. Then he reached into the box and pulled out a black wetsuit. He shook his head in disbelief before his wide eyes focused on his dad. Words had failed him, but the totally stunned expression on his face said it all.

The other gifts, including mine of a card and some cash, were pretty lamo by comparison to the brand new Rip Curl wettie, but you'd never have guessed it. The dude was genuinely excited about everybody's presents, and thanked each of us in turn. He was totally blown away by the surprise party, and we all felt happy that we were privileged enough to be a part of his beaver day.

I went out with my girlfriend that night as I usually did. Apart from her, I didn't socialize all that often with other people. Anyway, I talked about Kyle so much she got kinda pissed at me.

"Jeez, Mark, have you got the fucking hots for this guy or something?"

"Don't shit me, Carol. He's just a cool guy, that's all."

"Well, I wanna meet him. Maybe we can organize a blind date or something and all go out together."

Copyright 1999 All rights reserved. mrbstories


 Mark Part 5