South Africa
Part 53

Being back at school after the holiday was full on. Apart from getting enough homework to last a fucking lifetime, we had to do prep work for an upcoming leadership camp, which involved filling out a 'personality profile' questionaire about three other dudes who would be with us on the camp. The questions were deliberately designed to be tricky, so we had to read them carefully before circling the answers we thought to be appropriate. Must've been devised by some masochistic psychologist dude.

On top of that, I had to attend prefect meetings, which, after all, was to be expected at the beginning of term. I didn't really enjoy them, but I knew that most of the guys had a lotta respect for me, so I guessed I was kinda chuffed about that. When I told Kyle about it, he suggested that they must've seen me in the shower. Fucking typical of that crazy, spiky-haired comedian.

The three-day leadership camp was pretty cool. I shared a cabin with Kyle and two other guys. Predictably, Kyle stuck to me like shit to a blanket when ever the opportunity arose. One night, I needed to be by myself, and took a walk through the forest. I found a nice, quiet place by the bank of a small stream, and lit a joint. It was just so damn cool to listen to the frogs croaking, and the gentle babbling of the water, and to be alone with nature, which glowed softly in the silver light of the crescent-shaped moon that hung in a star-studded black sky.

My peaceful surroundings didn't last long, though. I heard footsteps, then the sound of Kyle's voice.

"Hey, mind if I join you?"

"Cool. Wanna drag?"

"No, thanks," he said as he sat down beside me. "What are you thinking about?"

"Nothing. That's the whole point of being here. I wish life was always like this. Just chillin' with no hassles."

"You enjoyed the holiday, though?"

"Yeah… had a totally wicked time. It rocked."

"You and Rochelle got pretty damn cosy."

"Yeah… it's not something I'd wanna tell Carol about, though. And I guess you haven't told Steph everything."

"I told her about Wingnut's first blowjob."

"Yeah," I laughed. "That was fucking priceless. Did you see the look on that damn grommet's face?"

"Yep… as well as the look on yours. You were fucking mesmerized."

"Hey, it's not the kinda thing you see every day."

Kyle was up to his old tricks again, and placed his hand on my crotch as we chatted. It didn't bother me too much, so I didn't react. Besides, the atmosphere was so calm and peaceful, his hand resting on my crotch almost seemed to complement the naturalness of our surroundings. I took his action to be more of a friendly gesture than a sexual one, and I didn't have a boner.

"This reminds me of you and me sitting on the beach by the lake when we were both naked."

"There's a time and place for everything, Kyle, and this is not the time or place."

"I just wanna be your friend, but you make it hard sometimes."

"You are my friend, dammit… my best friend. But a guy's gotta have some space sometimes."

"I just wanna talk."

"Yeah, right… with your hand on my dick." I took a final drag of the j, then tossed it into the water. "It's late. I'm going back to the cabin."

Kyle kept his distance for the rest of the camp, which made me feel a bit guilty. But, for fuck sake, the guy didn't really understand me. He thought he did, but there was a helluva lot about me that he wasn't aware of. It was just too damn easy for him to get all fucking affectionate, and even sexually aroused. Maybe it was natural for him, but it sure as hell wasn't easy for me. There were all kinds of complications, as well as conflicts, going on in my mind. And sometimes I just needed to be alone with my thoughts. Actually, that wasn't quite true. Sometimes I needed to be alone without any fucking thoughts whatsoever… just to chill, and let my mind wander aimlessly, like it was anaesthetized.

The following weekend, mom told me that Kyle had phoned, asking where I was. I'd been at Carol's making up for lost time. That girl's sexual appetite was fucking insatiable. Big time! But, hey, who was I to complain? Carol had the ability to take me places where I could forget about all the shit that was pissing me off. She was like an animal when we had sex. At other times she was totally cool company, mentally. It was a complete contradiction, though. We'd writhe around in bed like a couple of rattle snakes in heat, then take a walk through the park, chatting and laughing like best friends. Actually, we were best friends… best friends who also happened to enjoy sex together.

And that was the problem with my relationship with Kyle. He was also my best friend, but he was male. Yet, I was sexually attracted to him, and he was sexually attracted to me. And, to make matters worse, the fucker was all over me like a fucking rash when ever he got the opportunity. And if there wasn't an opportunity, his eyes would feast on my bod like he hadn't eaten for a week, and was checking out a juicy t-bone steak. I had to laugh, though. For some weird reason, Kyle's obsession with my bod wasn't really a threat. In fact, it was a compliment. He was able to appreciate all the work I'd put into keeping myself fit… and that was something I was very proud of. I guessed if I did had a prob with Kyle, it was my inability to respond to his affection on cue. Sometimes I could, and sometimes I couldn't. It depended on what frame of mind I was in at the time. And that was something Kyle found difficult to cope with.

On Monday morning back at school, I was in a shitty mood again… compliments of mom's boyfriend. Naturally, Detective Fucking Kyle was giving me usual the third degree at break. If I'd had to pay him a fucking dollar for every question he'd ever asked me, he would've been a fucking millionaire... several times over!

"So what's wrong?"

"I couldn't sleep the whole damn night."

"What were you thinking about?"

"Nothing," I lied. "Absolutely nothing. I feel like shit."

"I tried to call you, but you were out. Anyway, I spent the whole weekend surfing. How was yours?"

"Pretty quiet. Carol and I spent most of our time in bed… in between walks."

"That's why you couldn't sleep."


"You were overtired… fucked out."

I couldn't help raising a smile at the cheeky fucker's comment. "You were peeping, huh?"

"You needed a wank. You should've called me."

"Fuck off! Why am I not surprised that the convo's gone in this direction?"

"Hey, seriously! If I needed a wank, I would've called you."

"I'm gonna beat the shit outa you one day, and don't tell me you never asked for it." Well, not surprisingly, my threat fell on deaf ears.

"If I call, will you come and wank me?"

There was only one way to deal with my bud's persistent impertinence, and that was to punch him on the arm. Apparently, I didn't know my own strength, 'cause he dissolved into instant pain.

"Owww! Shit, Mark! Fuck!" he cried as he grabbed his arm in a vain attempt to console it. "Feels like you've fucking dislocated my shoulder!"

"Hey, bro, you asked for that."

"Fuck off, I was just jacking around. Do you have to hit so fucking hard?"

"Wussy boy." Kyle took a wild swing at me, but I jumped outa the way. "Wussy boy can't hit for shit," I laughed.

"You're chicken."

So I hit him again on the same spot, and watched him screw his face in more pain. "Chicken, huh? Wuss! C'mon wussy boy! Come get me!"

"Do you like that? Do you like seeing me in pain?"

"Yeah, c'mon wussy boy," I taunted.

"You're acting like a cunt, Mark. Fuck!"

"Cunt? Hey, you're starting to get all serious, huh?"

"No," he said, but I could tell he was lying.

"Hey, I didn't hit you all that damn hard, Kyle."

"Check it out, man." He unbottoned the top of his school shirt, then rolled it down his shoulder, where I saw the beginnings of a major bruise.

"Ouch!" I laughed. "I didn't realize how tender you were, bro."

"Get some fucking sleep tonight, Mark. OK? So you don't have to beat up on me tomorrow."

"Now you're sounding like Wingnut."

"Oh, piss off! You know what I mean. You're on a fucking mission to hurt someone, so I'm like the most convenient target."

"So why don't you hit back?"

"You fucking know why."

"No… tell me."

"'Cause you'll blow a fucking fuse, and it'll be like war."


"I hate it when you're in these fucking aggro moods."

"That's life."

"Aaaaggghhhh!" he screamed. "I hate that fucking saying!"

"Cool! I'll use it more often, then."

"Why are you doing this Mark? Just to make me mad?"


Then Kyle stormed off, and disappeared into the crowd of students. He was right, of course. He'd already seen the way shitforbrains treated me, hitting me with that length of hose. And he knew that I just stood there and took it, never saying a damn word about it to mom. Before I met Kyle, I was a bully, and vented my frustration on other dudes… strangers… strangers who didn't matter. Now I was taking my frustration out on Kyle, my best friend. But what was my option? How the fuck was I supposed to rid myself of the aggro that continually built up inside me? Kyle was the only person I could talk to about my probs. Not even Carol was aware of what shitforbrains was doing to me, or, before that, what my real father had done to me. I had a head full of fucking nightmares in fucking technicolor, and the only person who wanted to share my shit was Kyle. But, for some reason, I chose to attack him instead of confiding in him, and allowing him to be my friend. Fuck! Despite all that Kyle had taught me about friendship, I still didn't really understand it. Maybe I never would.

Later that afternoon, I chilled, but not to the point where I was prepared to make an apology. Apologizing didn't come easy to me, so I kinda hoped that Kyle would just be his normal self and let bygones be bygones.

Wingnut was at rugger practice, so it was just Kyle and me walking home together from school. When we got to my place, I invited him to come in for a sec.

"OK, just for a sec. I'm meeting Steve and Wingnut for a surf later."

That was another thing that puzzled me about Kyle… he had a full life with lots of friends. He needed me like he needed a third nostril, yet he stuck to me like fucking glue, even when I treated him like shit. Why?

Kyle followed me through to my bedroom where I tossed my school bag onto the bed, then grabbed a pair of boxers from my dresser drawer. I had my back to him as I changed outa my school uniform, but I was aware of his eyes soaking up every square inch of my bod. I didn't mind, though, 'cause it was kinda like my way of apologizing for the way I'd dissed him earlier in the day. Sometimes, actions were preferable to words.

"Fuck, Mark. You're unbelieveable. You've got this tight-muscled ass attached to those awesome, well-shaped legs, and all of it goes up to your V-shaped back. Fucking wicked."

"So you noticed?"

It was just after I'd pulled my boxers up that he wrapped his arms around me from behind, locking my arms against my sides, and held me in a bear hug. "So diss me now," he laughed.

"Kyle, you're gonna get hurt. Let me go!"

I struggled to free my arms but couldn't, so I threw myself onto the bed, pulling him with me, hoping to shake the crazy fucker off. Then he seized the opportunity to wrap his legs around me. He was hanging onto me like some distressed monkey clinging to its mother for dear life… arms, legs, everything.

"Fuck it, Kyle, if I get loose, you're dead. You'd better run!"

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 Mark Part 54