South Africa
Part 7

Kyle was always full of surprises. Sure, he liked me although I wasn't sure why, exactly. But another clue as to how he saw me through his own eyes was something I was about to get at the gym.

"Hey, Mark, do you know something?" He had that kinda honest, almost naive look in his hazel eyes which made me wonder what the fuck he was gonna say next.


"Like I think you're pretty cool."

How the fuck was I gonna respond to that? "Like how?"

"Well, don't get the wrong message, Mark, but you're pretty hot looking with a hot bod -- so you've got all the fucking chicks wetting their panties when you're around."

I continued to remove my gloves in an attempt to appear nonchalant, but I was hoping he'd tell me more. Nobody but nobody had ever said stuff like that to me before.

"I mean, it's like when I was at your house -- how you can just go ahead and fix things, and you work hard, and it's like you don't need anybody around 'cause you're so fucking good at everything. You're pretty strong and you look after yourself pretty well."

He was right, of course. I was about as independent as a teen could be. But, suddenly, this bright-eyed, spiky-haired kid was making himself cosy around me, and slowly but surely convincing me that his friendship was important to me. I had the feeling that my indifference to other people was being undermined. Anyway, I was determined to remain aloof and unaffected by his flattery. "Is that all?" I said, but I couldn't stop a grin from spreading across my face.

"So, you want me to go on?" he laughed.

"Hey, Kyle. I'll let you in on a little secret. I'm not that great, dude. I seem to piss people off more than anything, and there's a whole bunch of stuff I can't fix. But, thanks."

"Maybe you wouldn't piss people off so much if you smiled a bit more. Makes you look different -- kinda cute, even."

"Jeez, Kyle," I cracked, "if I didn't know you better I'd think you were hitting on me."

"Hmmm, now there's a thought... 'cept your dick is way too tiny."

"You're fucking jealous -- that's it."

The kid pulled down the front of his shorts, removed the codpiece and flopped out his old fella. "Yeah? Well, lemme tell ya something, when you're this well furnished, you don't need to be jealous of anything."

Kyle had a pretty respectable cock, better than most, but not better than mine. "Fuck off, dude, come and stand here next to me." I pulled my shorts down to reveal my own thick piece of cut, teen meat. He gawked at it for a moment, then his eyes travelled up to mine. The dumbass look on his face made me laugh, despite my trying not to. "Now, Kyle, I want you to look real hard. You've gotta admit, that is a cock, and it's a pussy eater."

Maybe it was because he was staring at my pride and joy or maybe it was because we were both standing there in the ring with our semis dangling in mid air, but something was definitely causing both our dicks to steadily rise.

"OK," he admitted, "yours is a little bit bigger, but only a little... bigger."

"And getting bigger." I was beginning to feel a touch embarrassed about my cock deciding of its own accord to stand to attention, so I quickly shoved the stiffening rod back into my shorts. Kyle immediately followed my example, and we headed for the showers.

"Hey, Mark, can I ask you something really personal? You don't have to answer if you don't wanna."


"You you jack off?"

Shit! Was he reading my mind about my session last night? "You've asked me that before, dude, and the answer's still yes. You?"

"All the fucking time!"

"Yeah, well like I told you, my morning piss boner kinda demands a bit of attention. Why?"

"Nothing, really. It's like a sort of study I'm doing. Guys are always putting shit on wankers but I'm discovering that most of them jack off."

"All of them, buddy -- the whole whacky lot! Remember that swim tour we did?"

"Which one?"

"Last year."


"Well, a few of the guys and I had a jacking competition."

"That is fucking outasight!" he grinned, enthusiastically, obviously amped to hear my confession. "I've had a few jacking sessions with guys and they're fucking awesome!"

"The guys or the sessions?"


"Yeah, they're awesome 'cause you get all fucking crazy watching the other dudes milk their lizards."

"You mean, me?"

"Fuck no, everybody. You, me, them -- all guys do."

"I guess."

I could sense the blood rushing to my cock again, so I decided to take my mind off the subject of jacking with other guys. "Hey, are we gonna shower or what?" I turned on the taps but try as I might, I couldn't stop my meat from getting so damn hard, it was standing straight up. Kyle's fat six was almost hugging his abs as well, but I still felt self-conscious about having such a major skin-splitter in the gym showers.

I spent most of the morning in classes trying to concentrate on lessons but the gym convo kept invading my mind big time, and my pants were constantly harboring a telltale bulge. At lunch break, I got a chance to talk to Kyle again. "Hey, that convo we had -- you know about what -- that was pretty cool! I've never spoken to anybody about that kinda stuff before without getting totally redfaced."

"You mean that? Well, I figure most guys think it's uncool to talk about jacking 'cause it doesn't fit their dumbass macho image."

"I guess so. And that other stuff you said about me, y'know, about looking hot. Thanks. I think you're a pretty cool guy as well." I found myself complimenting him a little more than I'd intended, so I backpedaled. "Not too much on the hunky and stuff but, hey, I can't be choosy." Both of us cracked up like hell at my last remark. Yeah, this dude was cool company.

We chatted about all kinds of shit as we ate our lunch, and I was really enjoying being with the dude but, every now and then, I'd look at his grinning, impish face and imagine shiny blobs of my boy juice stuck to his lips. The mental image would only last a second or two before I banished it from my brain, but it kept recurring as though there was a silent part of me that was trying to surface.

Kyle was the first guy I'd really opened up to -- not that I'd been looking for a soul mate, far from it. I had my own way of dealing with guys. I got along with them OK but, even when we went clubbing, I'd soon drift off and do my own thing. I preferred being solitary. Crowds weren't my scene. But, for some reason, Kyle was breaking down my loner barrier and getting to me like nobody had before -- not even girls.

That morning in the gym, when we'd eyed each other's cocks, was a totally awesome experience. I was proud of mine, but I found myself getting excited at the sight of his, which was a killer piece of teen meat by any standard. What was it about Kyle that stirred my hormones? It wasn't a gay thing, 'cause I knew I wasn't gay and, from what I could gather, he wasn't either. In spite of that, there was an obvious sexual attraction that was impossible to ignore. There was something about the dude that made you wanna like him and hang with him. Some kinda invisible aura. A magnetism.

Well, whatever charisma he had had vanished the next morning at gym. He was in the foulest mood I'd witnessed, apart from the time he decked me in the quad after my calling him a faggot. He was powering into the punching bag like he wanted to murder somebody. After a few minutes, I had to find out what was eating him. "Whoa! What the fuck's gotten into you? You're hitting that bag all over the place."

"I'm mad."

"About what?"

"Not sure."

"OK, so keep hitting the fucking bag if it'll get it outa your system."

Later in the day, I discovered the target of Kyle's anger -- although not the reason why. He'd approached the coach for permission to go a few rounds in the ring with the school bully, a dude named Alan -- and he'd requested that I be his second. Kyle had to be crazy 'cause I'd already punched the shit outa him once before in the ring, and Alan was a much bigger dude than Kyle, although Alan carried a lotta fat. "You're crazy, Kyle. He's huge," I warned as we prepared for the match in his corner. "What the fuck is this all about, anyway? He call you a faggot or something?"

"Nope. He wouldn't pick on me. He only picks on the little guys."

"So you picked on him?"


"What the fuck for?" My question was interrupted by the coach who read the riot act, then got the guys to put on their headgear. "Anyway, Kyle," I continued, "watch out for Alan. He used to box when he was a lighty, before he got so damn fat."

"Now you fucking tell me!"

I could see panic in Kyle's eyes for a few seconds, then he seemed to take control of himself. The coach blew the whistle for the guys to start. Whoa! I couldn't believe what I saw. The morning sparring sessions with me must've helped my bud a stack 'cause Alan walked straight into Kyle's fists and was floored. Woohoo! Then Alan got mad as hell and walked into Kyle's fists a second time! SPLAT! Kyle was dancing around the ring just as cocky as you like, and having a fucking wicked time. Alan's second, a big guy from the swim team, was shaking his head in dispair.

Alan was so fucking riled, he got to his feet and launched into Kyle even before the coach had given the signal for the match to continue. My bud copped a hard smack on the cheek which sent him reeling. "Break!" the coach ordered, and restored order.

But, Alan's total lack of cool got him into trouble once again as Kyle sent him crashing unceremoniously to the canvas for the third time. It was then that the coach called a halt to the match. I'd never seen Alan so fucking crazy. He was totally outclassed by Kyle, and humiliated to boot. He was one angry mutha.

I waited for Kyle to emerge from the showers. He was nursing a bruised scratch on his face where Alan's glove had caught him illegally. "I wanna know what that was all about," I demanded.

"Hey, you're a real friend. Just believe me when I say I can't tell you -- not right now, anyway."

"Whatever. But just be careful. OK? Alan's gotta lotta school friends that would stand up for him. Take my advice, Kyle. I know the evil fucker. Watch your back."

"Thanks for the warning, but I'll be OK."

"I'm not so sure about that, dude. By the way, are you going to the Garbage and Placebo concert?"

"Nah, can't afford it."

I knew why the kid couldn't afford it -- he was always spending his money on other people. Steve had already told me that Kyle used all his savings to buy some little grommet friend a used surfboard. Now what kinda guy would do that? "Well, man, too bad you can't join us. It's gonna be a rave, but I'll tell you all about it on Monday. I wanna watch you suffer," I grinned.

"You should grin more often, Mark. It suits you."

Copyright 1999 All rights reserved. mrbstories


 Mark Part 8